Why are they all girls?
by Arrixam
Summary: Chase Rolan is dragged out of his world to go on some adventure straight out of an RPG. He must assemble a team of little girls, travel long distances with these little girls, and train them to pummel other little girls. There's singing, dancing, too much squeaking, catfights, questionable sexual innuendo... and blood. There will be blood. (MoeMon Universe!)
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Because of my lack of Pokémon after Gen 2 (I only played up to Silver but followed the modern lore for some odd reason), I'm strictly using Red and Blue game versions. There will be the occasional reference to the other games, regions, anime, manga, movies, etc. But the entire story focuses on Kanto.

Thank you.

Now on with the show!

* * *

"Incinerate!"

"HYPER BEAM!"

Two beams of energy clashed against another. The first was comprised of fire no thicker than an adult's fist. The second was a beam of cosmic radiance of every color as large as an adult's head.

His Incinerate technique should have torn through this bullshit. He was wearing his mask. It made all of his techniques conceptual. With it, he could have been able to burn _fire_ if he imagined it. And he was imagining his technique piercing through this creature's and turning her skull to ash.

Chase growled in frustration when the collision created another combustion that knocked him back. His Researcher coat took most of the blunt force and his reinforcements through Aura allowed him to remain on his feet. He couldn't afford to get knocked on his ass.

There! There was the gap he needed!

The creature Lance had summoned was a winged woman. Her hair was gray with each strand woven out of petrified bone. She was a gorgeous creature with a beauty as lethal as her tenacity to tear him apart.

But her latest attack had weakened her. It had cost her something immense to counteract his techniques. She fell to the ground panting and drenched with sweat. Exhaustion struck her.

Chase was hardly winded. He was breathing hard from the adrenaline pumping through him. It was making him focused in his goal.

He accelerated forward, kicking off the ground with a burst of Aura below his feet. There were two blades of ice in his hands.

He passed by the Aerodactyl girl. She wasn't his target.

Lance stared straight at him for the first time. He didn't move. Alarms rang in Chase's head with how still the man was, still comfortable where he sat at the garden table. He looked so sure of himself that Chase's attack would never reach him.

It would have made anyone sensible to hesitate. To think this was a trap.

If he couldn't see the trap, then better for it to be sprung and remove it from play than to never know what was there in the first place.

It was such a foolish mistake. He was still too young to understand anything. He thought he knew everything after spending a few short years in the SITH-Acolyte War. He had barely learned the worst of it all.

"QUICK ATTACK!" Lance announced with his calm voice as Chase approached.

Chase had the wind knocked out of him and was feeling the vertigo. He only saw a blur of something gray come from his flank. Spinning in the air in weightlessness he realized it was the Aerodactyl.

The unforgiving ground hit him like a truck. Or he hit it. He wasn't sure.

"…I thought…" he growled as he tried to get back up. "You said four moves only…"

Chase had been keeping track. Supersonic, Take Down, Bite, and Hyper Beam. All of which were a pain in the ass to deal with. Even Bite. No, _especially_ Bite. Aerodactyl might look like a harmless girl, but her jaw had been able to pierce through his ice armor.

And now there was Quick Attack…

Lance eyed him for a moment. He uncrossed his legs and stood from the table. "A Moemon may only learn four moves at a time, yes. But as the Champion, I am entitled to bend the rules a little bit when it is necessary. Such as in the case someone doesn't play by the rules."

Chase let his head hit the ground as he sighed in agitation. There was no point in trying to take the man's life again. Not with his Aerodactyl keeping a vigilant eye on him. It would probably attack him as soon as Chase tried to draw up some of his power.

His mask dissolved into mist and disappeared. But he still had Aura flowing through his body to be able to defend himself. He _did_ try to take Lance's life a few times. And every time he was stopped by either the man's Aerodactyl or Dragonite. Those things might hold a grudge.

"If you are satisfied, will you join me so we may talk, Mr. Rolan?"

Though it was asked, the Aerodactyl grabbed Chase by the collar of his coat and flung him around. She was not gentle. With a flap of her wings and a tug of her arm did she transport him into the chair.

Lance eyed his servant with disapproval but she snorted at him in response. He shook his head at her before taking his own seat.

She began to serve them both tea with a gentle touch as though she hadn't just tried to manhandle the boy who tried to take her master's life.

"You're hurt," Lance observed.

It was a few cracked ribs. Chase was sending Aura through them to keep them from breaking and to dull the pain. It couldn't do much against the way his body moved stiffly.

"I'm fine," he protested.

"I would be a poor host if I didn't treat you well," Lance argued with a heavy frown. "Chansey, please come here and heal our guest."

"Fuck off with that," Chase snapped and slammed a fist on the table. It got him a glare from the Aerodactyl and he _may have_ pulled his emotions back a bit. "I don't need you to do that. So help me if she so much as—"

The pink-haired girl scrambled out of the door of Lance's mansion in a frantic hurry. It was a teenage girl in a pink dress and white apron. As she ran towards him, her hands fiddled with the front pocket until she pulled out an egg.

"Don't even think about—" Chase started and tried to rise out of his chair.

He was shoved back down by the Aerodactyl.

Before he could do anything else, the Chansey cracked the egg on his skull and let the yolk fall all over him. His scowl intensified. He could have burned a hole through Lance's brow if he drew Aura to his eyes and summoned his mask again. But the Aerodactyl would hurt him before he could try. So, instead, he was forced to sit there and let the yolk wash down his face and soak into his skin.

This was the third time this Chansey had done that to him. And it was the third time she patted him affectionately on the head before bowing to Lance and returning to whatever duties she had in the mansion.

"You get a kick out of this, don't you?" he accused of Lance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lance said with a grim tone. Except, Chase could see the flicker of a smile in his eyes. "You're hurt and it's my responsibility as host to see you are properly taken care of. Moemon are not used to battle against humans. That would be against the League rules."

Chase wiped his face with his hand and flickering the rest of the gunk that didn't seep into his skin.

The Aerodactyl placed a cup of tea in front of him and went to her master's side. She stood at his back and slightly to the right. Her eyes never left Chase's profile.

"This is the third attempt," Lance began. He crossed his legs once more and cupped his hands onto his lap. "When I said you had to defeat me I didn't mean in this fashion. Are you willing to listen to the rules this time?"

"You dragged me out of my world and tell me to beat you," Chase growled. "Fuck your rules. I was going to beat your ass just for bringing me here. I have my own problems to deal with, Lance. I don't need to be playing your stupid game."

"The outcome will always be the same," Lance shrugged. "I have sealed all of your powers. You cannot use your Flame and Frost without using that mask of yours. I understand how expensive prolonged use of it can be."

Chase grumbled something incoherent under his breath. The man was right. The mask was one of his trump cards. It focused all of his Aura into a tight container. It was a catalyst that made his affinities for fire and ice into conceptual expressions. He could burn and freeze _anything._

But, yes, it was expensive. It was like constantly trying to lift the maximum amount of weight for as long as possible.

He should have used his Crest. And, if needed, the Shadow. He wondered how they would have fared against the man's Moemon.

"Are you willing to listen to my proposal, Mr. Rolan?" Lance asked after his words had settled.

"Not particularly," Chase snapped… but then eyed the Aerodactyl. "But… I doubt I have much of a choice. What am I doing here?"

Lance nodded with approval, "This is the Kanto region. I am the League Champion of this select region. In this world, all matters are settled in a contest against Moemon. There is no human on human violence these days."

Chase blinked at that. "So… say if Bob slept with your wife. You're not going to bash his skull in with a bat? You're going to get your slave here to do it for you?"

"I'm neither married nor do I know who this Bob character is…"

Chase raised a brow at that.

Lance waved it off, "No, Mr. Rolan, I would do none of those things. First for the matter, if this wife of mine protested, she would challenge Bob to a Moemon Battle. If he was the victor, then it would be within his rights to sleep with her. If she won, then he must leave the premises and never try again. In the outcome if he were to win and proceed, then I would challenge him to reclaim honor. As Champion, I would devastate any opposition."

He said that with a feral grin.

Chase was scratching his head furiously. "Fucking seriously? You say that like you're ruining this guy for life."

"I would be," Lance responded with a clear and level voice. "Moemon Battles here mean everything. Perhaps to you, as you come from such a chaotic world without rules, it might seem like a silly childish game. To us, it is the law. To lose a Moemon Battle would be equal to… a thug losing credibility on the street, a lawyer losing a case, an athlete losing an important match… do you understand?"

"You're all crazy and stupid," he snapped back. "Seriously. What's stopping that one guy from getting angry and punching another guy? Or getting desperate and robs a store? Or, I don't know, starting a war?"

Lance looked at him with a wry smile, "We do have those disputes. But they are controlled. Very tightly controlled. Our society thrives off of Moemon Battles. It is a part of culture that reaches to all corners of the world. You may use violence one way, we use it our way. As for war… War was the reason why this system exists. It is why the League was formed and why Champions were made."

He paused to let those words settle.

"Rather than critiquing our world…" Lance uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Perhaps you should be looking for a way to return to yours."

"By beating your ass," Chase retorted.

"In a Moemon Battle," Lance raised a finger. "As I said, all disputes are settled through Moemon Battles. If you wish to return home, that will be how it must be done."

Chase glared at him, "In case you can't hear yourself talk, I'm not from around here. I don't have these things. I can't challenge you to a duel if I don't have any cards in my deck, Lance."

"Fortunately, there are ways to remedy this," Lance said without losing pitch in his voice. "Everyone who becomes a Moemon Trainer must start somewhere. We have facilities in every town that grants them _one_ starter Moemon. From there, it is up to you to capture more on your quest or trade with other Trainers. Train your Moemon, have them grow stronger, and challenge Gym Leaders. Collect all eight Gym Badges within the Kanto region Moemon League and you will have a right to challenge the Elite Four."

Chase's scowl deepened, "And why, the bloody fuck, would I challenge _them_?"

"Because in order to challenge me you must defeat them," Lance answered with a solid face but another smile in his eyes. The fuck was enjoying this. "I am a Moemon League Champion. I can only accept the challenges of those who have defeated the Elite Four. My time is valuable and cannot be wasted accepted the challenges of _novices_."

"So you mean I have to literally grind from the absolute bottom of the shit hole and climb my way to Olympus?!" Chase roared.

"I am no god, Mr. Rolan," Lance said a little too casually.

"Fuck off!"

Lance looked at the watch on his wrist. A brow was raised. "I'm afraid that's all the time I can spare for you. Professor Oak will be able to explain the rest in detail. Aerodactyl, please take him to Pallet Town so he may begin his journey."

"Hey, asshole, I still haven't agreed to go with this."

"Then by all means…" Lance stood and pushed his chair in. "Keep trying through your usual methods. Next time I will not defend myself with just one Moemon. Perhaps I will use my full team. Let us see how you fare against six draconic Moemon. Aerodactyl, take him."

She moved faster than Chase could get out of his seat. For a girl whose hair was made out of bones and wings out of stone, she was impossibly fast. She flapped her wings, grabbed him around the waist, and yanked him out of his seat. Before he could react, they were already several feet above ground and only accelerating. In a matter of seconds, Lance was the size of an ant.

0-0-0

As expected, she was not gentle. Nor did she stop to let him land.

She threw him at her top speed. She was aware of his capabilities and wasn't worried about injuring him. Or, rather _because_ it was him, she wanted him hurt.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" he shouted after she took back to the skies. He was sore. She threw him to the side of a hillslope. At least the grass and dirt were soft. He couldn't imagine what would have happened if he landed on a pile of rocks.

It took him a few minutes to hike the rest of the way to Pallet Town. It was a small town, more like a villa than anything. The houses were small with large open spaces of land between them, the busiest street was the market area that also held the town hall, and there was a school off to the side. A single school that looked like it taught all grades.

With such a small town, sneaking in was out of the question. Someone had already noticed the Aerodactyl soar through the air and dump him in the outskirts. There was a bit of a commotion at the town entrance. They asked him questions— mostly things regarding the status of his health and if he was okay and if they were under attack.

It took him an hour to make his way to Professor Oak's laboratory. It was one of the largest buildings of the town; it oversaw the town at the top of a hill. It was a two-story building with an observatory at one side, a bunker in another, a greenhouse, a storage unit, and the actual laboratory and office space. Behind it was a large ranch with acres of open land.

Chase stopped at the gates to see out into the ranch. There was a river running across of it, a large red barn with the doors open, stables under a shade, and a series of fences that divided the creatures roaming around.

They were all those strange sub-species things Lance called Moemon. They were all humanoid with the exception of a few appendages found on monsters, pets, plants, and the earth. Most of them looked as young as toddlers while the oldest he spotted was a teenage-looking boy but a few years younger than Chase.

" _Arf, arf!_ "

He looked down to see another one of those toddlers had run up to him. It was a little girl dressed in a brown dress with a fur coat over her shoulders. Her hair was brown with a pair of dog ears flipped upwards. And… she had a tail. It wagged animatedly while her mouth was open in a doggy grin. She stood on her toes to peer over the fence to get a better look at him.

He chose then to walk away from this madness and get this over charade over with. He had no intention of actually getting a Moemon, going through the League rules of battling Gyms and challenging the Elite Four, and then facing their Champion in a final showdown. No, playing games like these was what got him caught up in this mess in the first place.

Lance didn't take away his weapons. He might have sealed his powers but he didn't take away his knives, his guns, the grenades, and the other nasty surprises hidden within his coat. He also had his Crest and the Shadow if things became dire enough.

He was here to gather information. It was within his core as a Researcher. If he could talk to this Professor Oak, who was going to give him a lecture on the ins and outs of Moemon, then he would reap for information on how to get around Lance's omniscient defenses.

Chase entered the front of the laboratory. The doors were automatic and the waiting room was chilly. It felt more like he was visiting a dentistry than some Moemon researcher.

The receptionist wasn't at her desk. Nor was there a bell to get her attention. Or… a telephone. The only thing placed at the front desk was a computer and it was turned off with a plastic cover over it.

He should have figured. For such a small town there were hardly any visitors to see the Professor. He probably didn't have the budget to afford a receptionist or said employer was busy taking care of the ranch. Or elsewhere with an actual daytime job.

"Hello?" he called out. There was no answer. He didn't wait for one anyways as he circled around the desk and pushed his way through the dividing door.

"Hello!" he called out again with a bit of edge in his voice. He was getting impatient already the more he wandered down the hallway. There were a few doors with labels on them. He made sure to read them and mark them. He made sure to keep a steady flow of Aura through his body as he passed by each door. He didn't want anything to surprise him.

"Is anyone here?" he called out one last time.

He heard the sound of rummaging and footsteps coming from one of the doors ahead of him. He decided to stand back and wait.

The door opened and out stepped a young man, still older than Chase, with black hair slicked sideways and large glasses that magnified his eyes. He blinked a few times as he looked at Chase.

"Professor Oak?" Chase asked while eyeballing the young man.

"N-No…" the man exited the room, making sure to close the door behind him and jimmy with the knob until it clicked. He had done so that suggested the door had been broken for some time. "Stewart, actually. I am the Professor's assistant. Is there something I can do for you, um, sir?"

He thought about it for a moment. He could have asked this guy the same questions he wanted from Professor Oak. It might have been possible Oak would have still reported back to Lance on everything exchanged. But details would have slipped if it had come directly from his assistant. He looked young and innocent enough to not understand the deeper schemes of subterfuge.

On the other hand… he might not know what Chase wanted. It might have been better to hear the finer details about this world and its ludicrous system from a professional rather than a student. It would have been like asking Janice about the physiology of their species versus asking a Blueblood like Gabrielle or Colonel.

"I'm looking for… Professor Oak," Chase decided to say. "I'm… new. I have a few things I wanted to talk to him about."

"O-Oh…" Stewart looked unsure of himself. "I see now. You must be a new Trainer. You're a bit older than the average— N-Not that there's anything wrong. I personally never passed the exams after five years of trying."

Chase never took any such exam. He knew jack-shit about this world and their Moemon.

"Unfortunately…" Stewart tightened the bow of his tie, unsure of what else to do with his hands. "The Professor is out on an errand in the next town over. Viridian City, I'm afraid. He won't be back until another week. I don't have the authority to give you a starter Moemon. I'm sorry. You'll have to come back when he returns."

A week? No, no, no, fuck the living shit out of that idea.

"Maybe you can help me then," Chase said with a level voice. His eyes turned from brown to red and blue. They began to glow as he channeled Aura through them.

Eye techniques weren't his forte. He may have been a Blueblood Acolyte but that didn't mean he had their centuries of practice and education. He was barely sixteen and the only ones he could practice on were the second generation Researchers (who knew less than he did about Blueblood and pureblood abilities) or on the Tactical Hunters who were mostly immune to them.

He wasn't even sure if these people could be affected by them. But he'd rather try here in this enclosed space with no one else around.

He sent Aura through his eyes. He couldn't expel it out of his body but he still had access to his physical augmentations. He could activate eye techniques. Now all he had to do was make sure Stewart never looked away.

Like every other eye technique, the first thing he had to cast was Allure. It drew upon the target's interest and the connection flickered whenever the target blinked. Or if anything at all got between their vision. And it could easily be broken if there was a distraction large enough— that could have been between the pain of a bee sting to the alarms of something life-threatening.

So long as the connection was kept and Chase never lost focus, he could apply a second eye technique.

This one was the first he'd learned. It was called Persuasion. And like the name suggested, it applied strong suggestions to the target and made Chase's intentions that much more convincing.

"I strongly suggest you go through the same procedure Professor Oak would," he invoked.

Stewart stared directly into Chase's eyes without blinking.

"I would like to help you, young man," he frowned with an apologetic and nervous look. "But it's not my place. I'm just an assistant. Besides, Professor Oak is the one with the authority from the League to handle Moemon transfers. You'll have to wait until he arrives."

Chase's brows fell into a flat line. He shouldn't be surprised. He didn't have high expectations his technique would have worked. Yet he didn't expect it to fail completely. Steward was acting as though nothing unusual was going on.

Lance didn't just get rid of his ability to use his Flame and Frost affinities; he had also gotten rid of eye techniques. Until he could experiment further, Chase would assume all of his other abilities as an Acolyte were shut off.

He wouldn't be surprised if he found out Lance had, indeed, negated his Crest.

But there was no doubt in his mind the Shadow was still accessible.

…The damn thing was still watching him. He could feel their connection beneath his feet.

"I can't wait for a week," Chase growled. "You know what? Fine. What _can_ you tell me?"

Stewart adjusted his glasses after blinking once. "Uh… T-That would be everything reviewed in your lessons and stated in the exams. Since you're here you must know all these things. I wouldn't want to bore you in a review."

Chase debated for a second whether he should ask for it or not. On one hand, he would have easy access to the bare minimum requirements needed for these Trainers to get their shit together. On the other, since he did not take any such test, Stewart might start to raise suspicions.

If the man suspected something, then there was no way in hell he was going to help him. If anything, he would bar him from any other useful information and kick him out of the laboratory. In worst case, he might call the authorities for impersonating a Trainer.

…Chase could always gag the man and threaten him for information. The guy looked too weak-willed for torture to be needed.

But that would still take time. Someone might come along like another lab assistant or someone Stewart was affiliated with. Plus, Stewart had seen his face. Nothing save from killing the man would keep him from talking.

Killing him wasn't beneath him. But the rest of the town had seen Chase. No one was stupid enough to not suspect the mysterious man was the one who killed Stewart. Also, Lance knew he was here. If the Champion learned someone was dead because of Chase…

Fucking hell. This was getting way too complicated too fast.

"Is there a Gym here?" Chase asked instead.

"No, sorry," Stewart answered without suspecting anything. The town was either painfully boring or the man was obnoxiously oblivious to the world outside these walls. "The town's too small and we don't get as many visitors as some of the other towns— it's too out of the way from the main roads, you see. The nearest Gym is in Viridian City."

"Also where Oak is," Chase muttered with irritation.

"Professor Oak," Stewart corrected with more confidence in it than he probably put in his entire life. No, he had to have _some_ confidence if he had the Point Dexter appearance.

"Can you tell me how to get there?" Chase asked next.

Now, Stewart suspected something. He raised a brow and fixed his glasses. "Huh? You mean you didn't come here from Viridian? That's strange. The only way to reach Pallet Town is from Viridian. Unless… you came on the ferry from Cinnabar? Is it that time already? The month sure came and went…"

Chase chose to say nothing. He gave a look of expectancy.

"In that case," Stewart came to his own conclusion. "Head north. There's only one road. But be careful! Avoid the tall grass if you can— you obviously know this so excuse me. It's dangerous, especially when you haven't received your starter Moemon. Once you reach Viridian, be sure to stop by the market and purchase some Moeballs. Capture yourself a Moemon. I would advise you from going but… you seem capable enough. You managed to cross the sea without a problem."

"North, got it," Chase nodded. "I don't suppose there's some sort of transport that comes around here? Like a bus?"

"We're a little out of the way," Stewart repeated with a more embarrassed look. "Might want to ask one of the farmers to see if they're going to sell any of their produce. They might give you a lift. If not, it's a good six hour hike."

"Six hours?" Chase blinked at that. He knew he saw nothing but grassland for as far as the eye could see. But, if traveling by foot, the nearest town was six hours away?!

"Convenient, isn't it?" Stewart nodded with a proud smile. "We're closer to the main cities than most others. Like between Viridian and Pewter. It's going to take you at least three days to cross through the Viridian Forest. Let's not even talk about reaching Cerulean through Mt. Moon."

It's a good thing Chase _wasn't_ going to go through the whole adventure as a Trainer. He was going to find Oak, gag and interrogate him on everything about Lance, and assassinate him.

Chase didn't need his powers to sneak into the man's room while he slept and suffocate him.

"Thanks for the help," Chase said without really meaning it.

"Of course," Stewart smiled without noticing a thing. "Glad to be of any help with a new Trainer. Good luck on your quest! Are you sure you don't want to wait for your starter Moemon? We have quite the exotic selection you'll never find in your travels."

"I'm sure," Chase retorted. He turned and walked back out through the hallway.

0-0-0

The farmers couldn't help him. No surprise there. They didn't plan a trip until the end of the month. Harvest would be any day now, they would need a few extra days to sort things out, and then be off to sell their produce. One of them even offered him a place to stay. The man mainly wanted to introduce his eldest daughter to a mature Trainer like Chase.

But it was going to be a full week, which would make the whole point moot. Instead, he decided to start hiking towards Viridian City. It was still early afternoon from what he could tell. He'd be able to make it by nightfall. He'd probably make it in half the time if he wanted to use any of his Aura.

There really wasn't much of a road to begin with. It was a winding dirt track surrounded by tall grass and the occasional random tree. He had a clear view of the mountains in the far north, the sea behind him, and a few hills he needed to hike.

He ran into the occasional Moemon as he walked.

They were just toddlers. There was a pack of them, all dressed in purple onesies, running on all fours. They spotted him, hissed at him, but ran away in fright once he shot them a glare of his own.

There were a flock of _flying_ toddlers. Those all had wild brown hair and were dressed in brown and red sacks. They cawed at him… and fled like the rest once he glared at them.

It made him realize he wasn't in his world anymore after watching those specific toddlers fly off like a flock of birds. They didn't even have wings like Aerodactyl!

At first, the scenery was peaceful. Relaxing. Welcoming. Beautiful even.

…And then it quickly turned boring after two hours of hiking. He wanted to get to the city as soon as possible. It wasn't in view yet, which irked him. He would use his Aura to dash ahead for as long as he could, lightly jog at a normal speed to recover his stamina, and then repeat the process.

Three hours and he was starting to get hungry. Burning so much energy was exhausting him. And he couldn't remember when his last meal was. The protein bars and emergency rations in his pockets didn't provide much. Especially when he quickly burned through them with his Aura techniques.

The trees didn't have fruits. He didn't trust the nuts and berries with their odd coloration. And _like hell_ was he going to cook one of the Moemon.

Instead, he snapped off the twig of a tree, tied some steel wiring around the tip, and tied his Crest to the other end. The metallic charm of a shooting star glinted in the light.

A moment later, he squatted in front of a pond and began to fish.

Luscious was probably rolling in his grave right now. Using a godlike weapon with the heart and soul of an Acolyte legend as _bait_.

But it worked. The Crest, having the soul of a Gravity Acolyte, had been able to pull in something. Not even a minute after tossing it into the pond did something grab ahold of it.

He took a deep breath, drew on some of his Aura, and yanked. Hard.

A large splash erupted. Something flew through the air.

He caught yet another toddler as it came arching towards him. This one had orange hair, bright blue eyes, and a white and orange dress that matched her hair. She even had a plastic yellow hairclip over her brow.

…And she was flailing around like a fish.

He could only stare at the thing with disgust. Not because of what she was. But more out of sheer spite of the situation.

Of course even the fish were fucking Moemon!

He watched a little longer as she began to gasp for air. She couldn't breathe. Like any fish, she couldn't stand being out of the water.

He groaned… and then tossed her back into the pond.

"Nuts and berries it is," he muttered, unclipping his Crest before tossing the rod away. His eyes looked at his feet. "If I get poisoned, I'm counting on you to purge it."

The Shadow didn't respond. As if it ever would for casual conversation.

He took a few steps away from the pond before hearing the sound of water shifting. He looked over his shoulder to see the same Moemon climb out of the pond… and picked up his fishing rod.

She trekked over the grass, her feet making squeaking noises like a rubber duck at every step, put the fishing rod in his hands, and smile up at him.

…And then start to choke.

"For fuck's sake…" he grumbled, lifted her up by the collar of her dress, and chucked her back into the pond.

He turned and started to walk away again.

He stopped after hearing the water shift again followed by the sound of squeaky footsteps.

He turned again to see the fish-toddler. She was looking up at him with angry eyes. She pointed at the fishing rod in his hands, then pointed at the pond, and then crossed her arms while giving her meanest glare.

…With her face starting to turn blue the longer she stared. Her brows were twitching.

"Look, I don't know what you want but…" Chase muttered. She wasn't going away no matter how vicious of a glare he sent towards her.

Suddenly, she made gasping noises. Her hands shot to her throat. She began to panic and flopped to the floor. She flailed and flopped around like any other fish would when out of water.

He wasn't going to be gentle with her. She wouldn't learn her lesson. Instead of picking her back up, he pulled his leg back and kicked her all the way back into the pond. A very loud squeak came out of her from the impact and she was sent flying until making a splash at the center.

He didn't turn around right away. He waited this time.

She came back. Instead of anger for getting the wind knocked out of her, she looked excited and happy. She threw herself onto the ground in front of him and waited.

He could only stare at her.

She tugged on his pant leg and pointed to the pond.

She _wanted_ to get kicked again. She probably thought it was some fun ride!

"…I don't have time for this," he grumbled and turned away. Fuck food. He just needed to get away from the pond.

The Moemon got up to follow him.

It didn't last very long as it began to pant, make audible gasping noises, and fall onto its hands and knees as though it had ran a marathon. Choking noises began to form soon after.

"I'm not going to save you this time," he said without stopping or looking her way.

He heard a splash a moment after. He looked over his shoulder and found the girl had leapt back into the pond. Her eyes were peering over the surface to stare at him.

He looked away and went back to the road.

He heard her surface again followed by the squeaking footsteps. He didn't stop walking. He didn't look at her. Soon, the squeaking began to retreat until there was a splash. Then, soon after, the squeaking returned.

He kept walking. Squeaking came and went. And the longer he walked, the more he realized she was increasing the distance to and from the pond.

When he was at the top of the hill, she rolled all the way back down, ran as fast as she could, and dove back into the pond.

He descended, thinking this was the last time she was going to follow him.

It wasn't. He heard her footsteps approaching, climbing over the hill, and meeting up with him. He expected her to immediately run back for the pond.

She didn't. She was smiling up at him. There were no signs of her suffering from asphyxiation this time.

He looked down at her. His glare was more at the situation itself rather than at her. Once again, this world was going to fuck him over. Regardless of the terrible shit he's had to do for the war, he wasn't going to kill this small creature just because she wanted his company.

"Well, it looks like I'm stuck with you, Squeakers," he groaned.

Squeakers continued to squeak with every step.

0-0-0

"Fan-fucking- _finally_ ," he swore as he crossed over the invisible border from the wildlands to the metropolitan city that was Viridian. There was no welcoming sign, no postman or border guard, not even a damn fence.

Then again, traveling from some farming village to any bustling city back in his world wasn't any different. But he'd thought there would be some sort of security measure in order to keep out the stray Moemon out of their city.

Or not. He spotted the flying toddlers perched up on rooftop edges and powerlines as though they were actual birds.

Fucking hell.

What he was most relieved about wasn't getting to his destination. While, yes, it was the worst four and a half hours on foot he'd experience in his life, the boredom in the same scenery wasn't what drove him crazy.

Squeakers' squeaking footsteps was what drove him crazy. He eventually got so fed up with it he put her on his shoulders… as opposed to killing her. But that didn't work. Whenever her shoes (yes, she was wearing a full fucking outfit in that pond) kicked against his chest, they would squeak. So he held her legs down.

But whenever _he_ took a step, the bouncing would cause her to squeak still. It wasn't as loud as with her feet. But it still happened.

Now he couldn't hear her through the bustling noise of the city. He put her down and let her walk now that the madness was overshadowed.

"Alright," he said while looking around. "First thing's first. I need to get some cash before finding the Trainer's market. Hopefully other Trainers are there and they'll lead me towards Oak."

He heard her stomach growl. She blushed and put her hands on her stomach.

He tried to not let it bother him. But the headache was making things worse.

"Cash, and then food," he corrected. "Nuts and berries aren't very filling. Fine. Stick close to me before I lose you."

She stepped a little closer to him and grabbed the hem of his Researcher coat.

Half an hour later, they walked into a diner. He found money by a standard stealing tactic— bumping into someone and stealing their wallet. He made sure to throw away the wallet before pocketing the cash. He also didn't expect the man he bumped into to apologize instead.

What was he in, Canada?!

They took a seat at a booth; Squeakers choosing to sit next to him instead of on the other side. He didn't care. He looked over the menu tucked away at the side.

"Hi there!" a chipper teenage waitress approached him with a smile full of sunlight. It hurt his eyes to see someone so… innocent. "What can I get you started with— W-Wha?! M-Mister! Is that… Is this your Magikarp?!"

She gestured at Squeakers.

Chase looked down at the Moemon before looking up at the waitress. "Are they not allowed in here?"

The waitress grew flustered. "It… It's not that. Our policy is… so long as they're tame. But… M-Mister. It's a Magikarp…"

"What, are they dangerous or something?" he asked with a raised brow. He can't see Squeakers being harmful in any way.

The waitress blushed. "T-That's not what I'm… S-Shouldn't she be in a tank or something? Doesn't she need to be in water? How can she be out of water?"

He looked down at Squeakers again.

The Moemon, a Magikarp, he assumed based on the waitress, beamed a smile at him. She was completely oblivious to the conversation.

The waitress' reaction was perfectly reasonable. Squeakers was a fish. Fish need water or they die. It was a common principle even back in his own world. But, from all his experience, there was always one exception that could break _any_ rule.

"I personally like to believe she's too stupid to realize she needs water," was his blunt reply.

Beings like Isaac and Monk were prime examples. Isaac could ignore fatal wounds and Monk _devolved_ from one of the celestial affinities to become a basic Air affinity bitch.

Another example was Squeakers. There was no doubt she needed water. It wasn't a ruse on how she was choking on land those few times.

The Moemon continued to kick her feet against the booth's edge in the rhythm of the soft music playing from the ceiling.

The waitress put up a smile and let out a few laughs, not fully accepting his reply but being forced to. She held up her notepad and pen, gesturing for him to make his order.

"I don't suppose you have Coke around here…" he muttered while flipping open the first page.

"Sorry, but we have Pepsi," she answered.

The menu fell flat on the table as he gave her an incredulous look.

"I know!" she said with exasperation. "I told the manager not to switch but he got a better contract with Pepsi. So all we serve now is Pepsi products."

No, that wasn't the part he was surprised about. While he accepted this world had technology that rivaled his, he didn't expect it to rival brand-name products as well.

"Cup of coffee, please," he muttered dryly while looking back into the menu. "Um. And a glass of water for her. How good are your burgers?"

"They're great!" she said while making quick notes. "We use Tauros meat grown here in the Kanto region. If you like, you can also try our Miltank burgers instead."

"…Is Tauros a Moemon?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"Yes," she answered, not once thinking his question was strange. "They're a Moemon found mostly in the Safari Zone in Fuchsia. Miltanks are mostly found in the Johto region. Where are you from, mister?"

"America," he answered while trying to fight back the cold sweat. These people were serving Moemon meat. Now, he had no right to say anything to them. To these people, they were animals. His world slaughtered animals for meat and leather.

But he couldn't eat them. Moemon looked too much like people. It was why he couldn't eat Squeakers.

"Do you have anything not made with Moemon?" he asked while skimming through the menu.

"We have a vegan selection in the back," she answered in a sweet and innocent voice.

His brow twitched as though her words were an insult. If Marla ever hears about this…

"The tofu burger," he ordered while trying to push back the pain in his voice. "And a salad."

"Salads are made with Oddish leaves," she said while jotting down his order. "Is that fine?"

"Make that vegetable soup instead," he said, now with his brow twitching violently. "Oh. And do you have anything for her?"

He gestured at Squeakers.

"Yes! We provide Moemon food."

"One order of that. Just don't tell me what's in it."

"Sure thing. I'll be back with your drinks."

She scurried off to quickly assist another table before heading towards the kitchen window and sticking his ticket onto the order rack.

He let out a sigh and almost wanted to sink into his seat. He didn't for the same reason he couldn't stop channeling his Aura. There were no hostilities surrounding him. There weren't any Tactical Hunters in disguise who were going to shoot him without warning. But it didn't stop him from keeping his guard up at all times.

He had also gotten the attention of some of the patrons. They were looking his way. They were looking at Squeakers in particular. They were all marveled by the idea of a Magikarp being outside of water. They were watching her, expecting her to suddenly start flopping around in need of water.

The eyes doubled when the waitress returned with his coffee and Squeaker's cup of water. Her eyes were transfixed on the Moemon, even forgetting to bring Chase creamer— which was fine since he always drank it black. The kitchen staff were huddled by the window to observe this phenomenon that was Squeakers.

The entire diner held their breath as soon as they watched Squeakers pick up her glass, take a small sip, and put the glass down. Nothing happened.

"It's rude to stare," he said aloud with a blunt look.

Everyone quickly looked away and went back to their business. But every now and then would they look his way.

Squeakers continued to squeak to the beat of the next song.

0-0-0

"Is that… is that a Magikarp?!" asked the clerk with bafflement.

"For the love of… Yes," Chase growled from the counter.

Squeakers had her face pressed against the display case, looking at all the different shades of Moeballs sitting on velvet pillows.

After some directions, he found the shop Stewart had mentioned. The shop read _MoeMart_. No brand name since it was managed by the League. It was a small shop the size of a convenience store with shelves full of supplies all dedicated to supporting Moemon and their Trainers. From health potions, to repellents, to essential camping gear, to food rations, and… Moeballs.

They were spherical devices with a button on the center. They reminded Chase of those super annoying plastic capsules from the coin machines at the car wash. The kind that were impossible to open and twice as much to shove the useless trinket back inside. The bottom of the Moeball was always painted white while the top was either in red or blue.

"How is she out of water?" the clerk asked.

"I'm going to get asked that a lot, aren't I?" he retorted.

The clerk wasn't the first to point out the obvious fish out of water. From the diner to here, people gawked at Chase and Squeakers.

"Don't you have a Moeball for her?" the clerk asked instead.

"I was told to come here to buy some," Chase said while looking down at the display case. "But after seeing these prices… I think I'd let her dry up."

Squeakers was now tugging on his pant leg while tapping on the glass. She wanted the red one.

"If you're a Trainer, I can offer you the League discount," the clerk offered.

"I thought you only sold to Trainers," Chase blurted out.

"Not always," the clerk shook his head. "Everything in the front is for everyone. Some people like to keep Moemon as pets or use repels to keep the insect type Moemon out of their homes. Everything behind the counter are for licensed Trainers only."

Chase looked up. He raised a brow. Some of the things behind the man were some items needed to be locked up. Like blades from knives to machetes.

"Don't they have MoeMarts in… where are you from again, son?" the clerk asked.

"America," Chase answered while examining the contents. "And no, we don't. But what you're talking about isn't that much different from the sports goods stores we have. The only difference is we need to be a certain age to buy some of this crap."

"Really?" the clerk asked with genuine fascination. "I've never heard of a place. I wonder if it's near the New World east of here… And how old exactly do you need to be?"

Chase's eyes flashed. Finally, he could use this to his advantage.

"Eighteen," he answered honestly and watched the man's reaction.

"Eighteen!" the clerk repeated with astonishment. "Wow! By that time, a Trainer would almost be done with their pilgrimage. I had my seventh badge by the time I was eighteen."

"…How young do Trainers start here?" Chase asked.

"You can take the exams as early as ten years old," the clerk answered, intrigued with the conversation.

"Ten?!" Chase said, slamming his hands onto the counter and startling the man. "You mean the League let's _kids_ out into the wilderness that young?!"

"While that is the legal age…" the clerk put up a reassuring smile. "That's not often the case. Usually a Trainer doesn't leave their home until either eleven or twelve. Sadly… I failed the exam a few times so I didn't get to leave until I was fourteen. All the other Trainers made fun of me for having such a late start."

The reassuring smile wasn't as reassuring as his words.

Even fourteen years old was far too young. Chase was fourteen when he was tossed into the war and that wasn't by choice. These kids could _choose_ to jump from city to city as early as ten years old. And their parents were _okay_ with this shit?

This world was far too peaceful.

There needed to be a genocide or something to teach kids not to leave home that young.

"I'd love to talk but I'm afraid I need to close up soon," the clerk went on. "However… if you're planning on staying at the MoeCenter for the night, I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind having you over for dinner. We can continue our conversation there."

It was a promising proposal. He could get more information out of the man. But he'd also increase the possibility of slipping out something he shouldn't say.

For example, he had no idea what the MoeCenter was or what it provided besides shelter for Trainers.

At the same time… he should accept the man's offer considering he wasn't a Trainer and didn't have anything to prove he was. The MoeCenter might outright reject him.

"That's nice but I'm going to have to refuse," he said. "I'm meeting up with others after this. I'd like to buy one Moeball. The red one."

Squeakers leapt up and down in excitement. It made her squeaking louder than ever before.

"Of course," the clerk didn't pick out the one from the display case. He opened a cupboard from behind the counter and pulled out a smaller version. It was twice as small as the one in the display case.

"Uh…" Chase's brows furrowed. He pointed at the larger capsule, "I wanted to buy that one right there."

"Oh, that's not actually real," the clerk answered as he punched in a few commands into the register. "It's a plastic model."

"So it's not set to scale?" Chase asked, picking up the smaller capsule. Seriously, it was the size of a grape.

"You must have the older models in… America, was it?" the man repeated. "Click the button in the center."

Chase did. The Moeball expanded until it reached the size of an orange, fitting perfectly in his hand and up to scale with the one in the display.

Well. That was convenient.

"Every year they come out with some new way to mess with those things," the clerk waved his hand at it. "Anyways, that's 200 zen."

What a pricey ass piece of garbage. But it wasn't his money. And he could always get more.

"Oh, and I'll need to see your registry," the clerk added quickly.

Chase was counting the bills when he looked up. "My registry? I'm not a Trainer of this region so I don't have one of those. You can charge me for the full price."

"I trust you," the man smiled. "But I'll still need it to register your ID to that specific Moeball or you won't be able to trade or transfer your Moemon."

Trade he could understand. But transfer? What the hell did that mean?

Chase nodded, feigning understanding, while reaching for his back pocket. He frowned, switched the bills in his hand, and patted the other pocket. His brows furrowed further as he patted his coat.

"Shit," he swore. "I don't have it on me. I'm going to have to return tomorrow."

Squeakers deflated.

"That's too bad," the man frowned but had an understanding expression. "It happens. I open up back again at eight. Maybe then we can finish our conversation if it's not too busy."

"I'm going to have to," Chase replied while tucking the money away. "Before I forget, do you happen to know anyone by the name of Professor Oak?"

"But of course!" the clerk's eyes widened. "He's a famous Moemon researcher. There's hardly anyone in Kanto who hasn't heard his name. Maybe in all the continent."

"I'm supposed to meet with him," Chase crossed his arms. "I'm supposed to get my Trainer's permit from him but the details were a little vague. You wouldn't happen to have heard anything from your customers today, have you?"

"As a matter of fact…" the man rubbed the bottom of his chin. "He ordered something not too long ago. We just got the shipment. He said he was going to be here first thing in the morning."

How fucking convenient.

"Then it's a good thing I'm coming back," Chase said, though he didn't plan on doing that before. Now he didn't have a choice. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," the man offered him a smile while Chase walked out.

"…Come on, Squeakers," Chase called out when he noticed the Magikarp Moemon was still glued to the counter.

Squeakers looked at him with pleading eyes. His glare was leveled and unflinching to her tears. She sulked, threw the upper half of her body forward in a slouch, and dragged her feet across the floor.

The squeaking of her shoes were long and whiny as though a rubber duck was slowly being squeezed and just as meticulously released.

0-0-0

"Hey, you, kid," someone called out to him.

Chase put his hands into his pockets. They wrapped around the hilt of a combat knife and a pistol while eyeing this man leaning against the wall. He was at the diner before and was now waiting outside the small shop.

Chase didn't reply. He just stared at the man.

The man gave a crooked smile, "You're not a Trainer, are you?"

Again, no reply.

"It's alright," the man shrugged. "I'm not a Trainer either. Least not of the League's. But you didn't hear it from me."

"What do you want?" Chase demanded in a low voice.

"Thought you'd be interested in a business deal," the man's smile shifted. His eyes looked around. There was nobody nearby. "Come with me if you're interested."

He got up from the wall and began to walk down the alleyway.

"Stay close," Chase muttered quietly.

Squeakers grabbed the hem of his coat as she walked with him into the alleyway.

The man led them around a few corners until reaching the backdoor of another building. He knocked a few times. A peephole opened up with someone peering through. It only lasted an instant before closing and the door opened wide.

"Come on in," the man said with a wave. "Make yourself at home. Our boss would like to meet with you."

Chase followed, sharpening his Aura to retaliate the instant he sensed something was wrong. He sent out little pulses of it to detect the signatures of the building. He could map the layout of the building plus the underground as well as mentally follow everyone within.

It was a perfectly square room. There was a couch against one wall, a television on with no one watching it, a water cooler in another corner, and a table in the center. Besides the man sitting in the chair at the door and the man Chase was following, there were two others playing cards at the table.

"Oi, he was serious," one of the players put his cards down and pointed at Squeakers. The other thought it was a trick at first before rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Arceus Almighty!" he swore and nearly fell out of his chair. "Look at that! A Magikarp on open land!"

"I told you!" said the man Chase had been following. "Now go get the boss. He's gonna want to see this."

The second man got up from the table and exited the room from the door at the other end.

Chase chose to stand closer to the TV. Not because he was actually interested in… whatever ludicrous game show being played— though Squeakers took a delight in it. She plopped onto the couch while leaning over the armrest to face the TV.

He chose this corner of the room because if a fight were to break out then he'd have a clear view of everyone, wouldn't be surrounded, and be able to break for either exits once an opening presented itself.

A moment later, the man came back with someone else following behind. It was a young man in his early twenties with black hair and a narrow face. He had a bored and slightly annoyed expression on his face as though he couldn't be bothered by whatever his goons had dragged him out of.

He was dressed in mostly black. Black shirt with a bright red 'R' on the front, black pants, and a black beret. In contrast, he wore white gloves and white boots.

Chase noticed immediately on his belt were three Moeballs. The man wore them like weapons— ready to be drawn at an instant.

"I see," he said in a sharp tone while examining Chase. "Good evening. You are indeed the young man I've heard so much about. The entire city is echoing with your arrival."

He did not give a command. He simply walked over to the table and the remaining goon gave him the seat without needing a gesture or word. The man took it as though it were his God-given right.

He gestured for Chase to take the other seat.

"I'll stand, thank you," Chase replied.

"Very well," the man wasn't offended. He cupped his hands together and let them rest on the table. "You have something my associates and I would be very interested in obtaining. I'm sure you've heard of us? The infamous Team Rocket?"

He asked with a sarcastic smirk as though it were the most common knowledge on the planet. And perhaps it was. But Chase didn't know.

"…Go on," Chase said, trying to not give anything away.

"That Magikarp is exceedingly rare," the man gave no indication he noticed Chase's bluff. "There are some water type Moemon that can survive on land, but not all. Magikarp cannot, plain and simple. Yet what you have might be rarer than a Shiny. We are willing to pay for it. Handsomely, I might add."

"That's very civil of you," Chase returned with his own bite of sarcasm. "But she's the only one I have at the moment. I'm sure you can buy Moemon with the money you'll give me. But money isn't my problem."

"You are an unlicensed Trainer?" the man did not ask as he more so stated. "We can provide you with forgeries that will even fool the League database. Acquiring more Moemon through capture, trading with other Trainers, or even through us will not be a problem."

"…My god," Chase swore with genuine astonishment. "Fucking finally. People on this god-forsaken wasteland I can actually appreciate! I was seriously starting to think crime didn't exist. Hello, I'm Chase. And you are…?"

The man frowned. He thought Chase was being sarcastic. Really, he wasn't.

"The other option, _Chase_ , is if we take it by force," the man went on with a sneer. "The choice is yours. Either accept our kindness or leave empty handed."

Chase looked around the room once more. He noticed none of the men had weapons and there were hardly anything they could use against him. His Researcher coat could protect him from bullets and knives. Hell, it had protected him from direct blasts from Aerodactyl.

None of them were fighters, either. They all looked tough… but their entire body language screamed they hadn't been in anything worse than _maybe_ a high school wrestling match.

"And what if I choose to just kick your asses instead?" Chase retorted.

They all laughed at that.

"If you insist," the leader smirked. His hand whipped out a Moeball from his holster, clicked the center button, and threw the capsule onto the floor.

There was a dim flash of light as soon as the capsule burst open. It flew back into his hand. From within the capsule came a stream of white light that became a humanoid silhouette before solidifying.

A woman stood in the center of the room when the light died down. She had long purple hair in a matching purple Arabian exotic dancer's dress. A thin veil covered her beautiful face.

Her serpentine eyes were the giveaway she wasn't fully human. She was a Moemon.

Oh. So _that's_ how the Moeballs worked. He didn't think they were _actual_ capsules like from the crank machines.

Before he could decide whether to carry on with his threat or not, Squeakers leapt in front of Chase. She had her hands spread out with a fierce look of determination as though she was the one who was going to defend him.

The goons laughed. Chase almost joined them.

"Is this how you want it, Chase?" the leader spoke softly with a smirk. He crossed his legs under the table and propped his elbow onto the table. He rested his chin on the back of his hand. "My Arbok against your Magikarp? Surely you know how this will play out."

"…A Moemon Battle…" Chase grunted more out of irritation than anything.

The headache was coming back.

Squeakers was ready. The look on her face went from determined to absolute murder. She stepped forward. She did not cower from the significantly taller and more mature figure. She began to crack her knuckles, cracked her neck, and then spat at the Arbok's feet.

The Arbok's eyes narrowed.

Squeakers raised her fists, about to throw the first punch.

…When all of a sudden, she flopped onto the floor. Her body jerked up and down, rolling from side to side, and flailed like a fish trying desperately to get back into the water.

The only difference… she was doing it intentionally.

Squeakers continued to have the look of murder in her eyes as though doing this was equal to stabbing the Arbok repeatedly.

Chase could only stare at her. He didn't know why he actually expected her to surprise him.

Well. She did. Just not in the way he would have preferred.

The men in the room laughed.

"Look! Look at her!"

"She only knows SPLASH!"

"It did nothing!"

The leader didn't look amused. He only looked down at Squeakers with pity. "Arbok, use BIND."

The Arbok moved with fluid grace befitting of a dancer. She lowered herself onto the floor and managed to time Squeakers' flopping perfectly for the fish-girl to land between her legs. The Arbok pincered her by the neck between her thighs.

Squeakers did what she could best… besides flail. She squeaked. She continued to squeak as the life was being squeezed out of her. Her arms flailed around as she tried to get out of the vicegrip. Her face was starting to turn purple.

Chase, very calmly, as though he had all the time in the world, pulled out his right hand from his pocket. He examined his pistol, cocked it back to check if it was loaded…

And then he blew a hole through the Arbok's chest.

Her body fell back and her muscles relaxed. She gasped and put a hand to her chest. Her hand pulled back, shaking, and full of blood.

Her eyes widened with absolute terror as though she had never seen this amount of blood before.

The room was completely silent except for her gagging on a punctured lung.

Once Squeakers was able to slip free, Chase fired another shot. The bullet flew from the bottom of the Arbok's chin to the top of her skull. She went still immediately after.

He'd have liked to have killed her with one bullet. Bullets were extremely valuable. He didn't know if he could get more in this world. But, blowing her brains out first wouldn't let her muscles relax. Squeakers would have passed out and probably be choked to death.

Maybe he should have let the Arbok bleed out? She'd sooner die choking on her own blood than bleeding out.

"…Arbok?" the leader spoke quietly in a shaken voice.

They all were. All the men had backed up from the noise. Their eyes were wide as they stared at the corpse of the Moemon.

Squeakers was the only one not frazzled. She looked down at the Moemon for a moment… and then raised her fists as though she were the victor of the fight.

For some odd reason… Chase could hear the ping of some generic Level Up RPG go through his head.

"You… You killed my—" the leader began.

"Quiet," Chase said, pointing the gun at him next. Everyone froze while Chase put a hand on his temple. The headache was stronger than ever. "When I said I'd kick your ass, I was being literal. I didn't mean to challenge you to a Moemon Battle. I meant for me, with my fists, to beat the living shit out of you all. I had thought— _hoped_ , as criminals, you weren't entitled to obey Lance's bullshit rules and come at me like real thugs.

"But, lo and behold, even underground back alley dealings are determined by Moemon Battles. I thought he was just exaggerating. This is a joke. It has to be. There is no way _everything_ is determined by Moemon Battles. Even if you're going to rob me? What's next, I roll a natural twenty and get a rare drop item from your Arbok's corpse? Do I get to keep her skin and make a belt out of it?!"

There was a look of horror on all their faces.

"You're insane," the leader dared to speak as though they were his last words.

"I like to think I'm practical," Chase retorted while letting his hand rest. "And I'm robbing you. Get up from the chair and face the door. The rest of you face the wall and put your legs together. I'm going to tie you up so you can't run."

"You'll do no such thing, Mr. Rolan," the voice of Lance spoke from the other side of the door.

Chase's eyes widened as he spun around. The door blew open and Aerodactyl flew in faster than humanly possible. He could only swear as he knew what was going to happen. Trying to shoot her wouldn't do anything to this monster anyways.

She slammed into him. Her hand cupped his face and drove him back until his head hit the wall. Even with Aura softening the blow, it made his head spin. She pried the gun out of his hand and crushed it in her grip.

He heard the footsteps of Lance enter.

"Leave," he commanded to the men within. "Forget what you saw here tonight."

No one would dare to question the League Champion. The goons fled without hesitation. The only one who did hesitate was the leader. His eyes remained on the corpse of his Arbok before he too fled.

Squeakers was trying to attack Aerodactyl. She continued to flop around with her… Splash.

"It hasn't been a day, Mr. Rolan," Lance spoke with disappointment.

"Fuck off," Chase bit back.

Aerodactyl squeezed a little harder. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of grunting in pain.

"I had thought sealing your foreign abilities would have taught you some form of humility," Lance began. He stepped in front of the cooling Arbok, just an inch away from the pool of blood. "And prudence. Yet you are just as rash as you were when we first met."

"I can't imagine why," Chase groaned.

"Aerodactyl," Lance commanded.

She didn't obey right away. There were two seconds of intense pressure before she let him go. He almost fell to the floor. She stepped away from him, never looking away while handing Lance the crumbled scrap that was once his pistol.

Lance observed the weapon with an aged look, "Weapons like these are forgotten. They belong to an age before this one. We put them down and fought with Moemon for a reason."

"I'm sure there's a really rich history about it all," Chase said with venom. "But I really couldn't give any less of a fuck. What are you going to do? Arrest me? I don't think that'll work with your plan."

He took a shot in the dark. There was no way someone like Lance would make Chase go through this episode for shits and giggles. The man was too stern for something like that. There was a deeper purpose.

"There is no law against these weapons," Lance didn't go for it. "I cannot arrest you, even as Champion. You complicate my position, Mr. Rolan. Especially after murdering an unregistered Moemon. I would like to punish you… but she is considered wild despite having a Trainer."

"Your laws are bullshit," Chase snapped. "No, it's less of a law than it is fanatical worship. Lance, if I wanted to murder someone, would I initiate a Moemon Battle? If I win, the guy gets ganked. If he wins, I just walk away?"

"…Murder is still illegal, Mr. Rolan," Lance sighed while pocketing the weapon into his coat.

"That doesn't answer my question."

" _This_ is our civilization," Lance turned and snapped. "This is how we settle matters. It is how we achieved peace while you and your planet continue to destroy another."

"So what? If we continue will we end up like you guys? Using humanoid slaves to fight instead of solving the problem myself? You know, even in my world we have something similar. They're called pit fights. And they're highly illegal."

Lance took a deep breath to force himself to calm down. Chase had managed to strike at a sensitive topic. The other prove was the way Aerodactyl was on the verge of ripping out his throat.

Squeakers was shaking and using Chase as a shield this time. Not even someone as stupid as Squeakers was stupid enough to fear Aerodactyl.

"I'm not apologizing," Chase said next.

"Why weren't you in Pallet Town?" Lance demanded.

"Oak wasn't there. His assistant said he wasn't coming back until a week from now. So I decided to come meet with him."

"…You will miss your chance to get your starter Moemon," Lance said, crossing his arms and studying Chase. "The Charmander, Bulbasaur, and Squirtle are exceptionally rare."

"I think I'll live," Chase replied bluntly.

"There is more," Lance shook his head. "Professor Oak would have provided you with all of the information you would have needed for your journey. He would have answered any question. He would have given you all the identification a normal Trainer would receive. You wouldn't have had to snoop around and get involved with these kinds of people. And look what became of it."

He nudged his head towards Arbok.

"I'm not waiting a week for any of that," Chase argued.

"I put you in Pallet to show you _patience_ ," Lance said, starting to lose some of his own patience. "It is a tranquil town with the folk as friendly as you can imagine. It would have been a week of paradise compared to your normal lifestyle, Mr. Rolan. The journey to become a Moemon Master is long and perilous. You would have looked back on that week with nostalgia."

"Lance, I do not have _time_ for this," Chase growled. His Aura was seeping through, thickening the air as his frustrations rose. "I have my own problems back home. I have a war to fight. I have comrades who need me. I am the Second Symphony, Commander to the Researcher Symphonies. You can't keep me away by shoving some bullshit quest that will take me _years_ to complete."

"Evidently, I already have," Lance pointed out. "You will carry on this quest, Mr. Rolan. The only way home is to defeat me. However you achieve it depends on the Moemon you raise. None of your abilities will help you. Nor will your weapons."

He snapped a finger.

Chase felt the shift of weight. His hands patted where he had stored his weapons. Everything was gone. All of his pockets were empty. Everything he had carried over from his world had vanished.

Mostly everything. Lance didn't take away the Crest strapped to his wrist. It was possible Lance didn't recognize it as a weapon.

"At least let me keep my knives," Chase growled.

Lance gave him a look.

"They're _knives_ ," Chase argued. "I'm not asking for the guns or the grenades. I'm not even asking for the wires or the last protein bar. They sell knives in the MoeMart anyways."

"I'll let you keep _one_ ," Lance said. When he uncrossed his arms, he had the six inch tactical knife in its sheath. The kind that could be used for camping instead of the combat knife used for specific use of carving people. He tossed it casually to Chase.

It was still better than anything the MoeMart sold. This one was at least military grade and illegal to sell over the counter.

"One more thing, Mr. Rolan," Lance fully faced him and spoke firmly. "Killing me will not send you back to your world. Only I can. My only condition is for you to defeat me in a Moemon Battle. So stop these attempts to find information about me."

Chase grimaced. The fucker already knew what he was planning.

"The MoeCenter is down the street from the MoeMart," Lance said. "Speak with Nurse Joy at the front. She will know about you and will give you a cot. Now leave. I have a body to clean up and you have an early morning. It's better to cross through Viridian Forest as early as soon as the sun rises."

"The forest?" Chase asked. "Don't I need to tackle the Gym here before heading off to Pewter? And why are all the cities named after colors?"

"The Viridian City Gym is the last and final Gym before climbing Victory Road," Lance answered plainly.

Chase stared at him for a moment. "The _last_? Then was I supposed to go the other way towards… Cinnabar?"

"That would be the seventh Gym," Lance shook his head. "Pewter City is the official first Gym a Trainer goes to once they start their journey."

Chase stared a little longer this time. "Just… _why_ did you put me in Pallet Town instead of Pewter?"

"Because Pallet Town is the starting point for all Trainers," Lance answered as though it were as plain as day. "They receive their starter Moemon from Professor Oak as well as a Moedex to archive their findings. As he is the inventor it is his facility that produces them."

"Why the hell is the starting town between bosses seven and eight?!"

"The Gyms were not determined until after the League was formed. Viridian City is the only city connected to Victory Road, which leads to the League's headquarters. The only way to access it is to achieve the eighth and final badge. As for Pallet Town… Professor Oak retired there to become a Moemon researcher because he found the town to be peaceful. We did not argue with his decision."

"…Retired from what?" Chase couldn't help but notice the underline in Lance's tone.

Lance did not respond to the question.

"Will I even need to talk to Professor Oak at this point?" Chase asked.

"Not any longer," Lance shook his head with finality. "You have started on your quest. The Magikarp seems to be your first partner. I will see to it you are registered. You will receive everything you require first thing in the morning. Good luck, Mr. Rolan."

He was done with the conversation. He would not answer anything else with the way he turned his back on Chase. Even Aerodactyl dismissed him completely.

"Come on, Squeakers," Chase patted the top of the Moemon's head. "It's past your bedtime."

Squeakers looked up at him with defiance. But he could see how much effort she was putting to fight off the slumber.

While Chase was exhausted from such a long day, he would not sleep. The Shadow wouldn't allow him. He could rest but never enjoy the peaceful narcotic that was deep sleep.

At the doorstep, he paused to look over his shoulder.

The body of Arbok was gone. As well as Lance and Aerodactyl. There was no trace they were ever there.

"The fucker is probably watching my every move…" Chase muttered as he looked up at the sky. He didn't know what exactly the role of a Champion detailed… but it seemed to include more than to be the best Trainer in this region.

Lance was something else. He was more liken to those defenders of the planet Colonel had mentioned once. Beings who were a part of the world itself who did everything in order to preserve all existence within it.

If that were the case… what did it mean for Chase to be in this world, to go on this quest, and beat the Champion at his own game?

Beating the Champion… Wouldn't that make Chase the next Champion?

…Was Lance looking for a successor?

Could Chase really go home?

The sound of a single squeak pulled him out of his thoughts.

Squeakers had fallen asleep waiting on him. Her head rested against his thigh while she slept standing up. She snored lightly… making little squeaking noises while doing so.

Even if he could sleep… he wouldn't be able to with her horrendously obnoxious snoring. Even asleep she squeaks!

He sighed, picked her up into his arms, and carried her towards the MoeCenter.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Two notes for this one. First for my usual readers. Second for new readers. I STRONGLY urge the new readers to read the second.

On another note, I had wanted to finish the entirety of the Viridian Forest arc in one chapter. But I was at 16k and 2/3 done. So I split it in half. Here's the first 10k with the next chapter probably being finished by the end of the week. Or tomorrow, really. Depends on my work schedule.

 **For returning readers:**

I chose Chase out of my myriad of a cast because he's the most colorful. He has this thing called a personality (unlike a certain overly used Archmage). You're either going to love him for his sarcastic remarks and dirty deeds... or hate him for the same exact reasons. Either way, I'm doing this half to torture him and other half to challenge myself with a new task. Hope you enjoy anyways.

This version of Chase is YEARS before the Dragoon series. I think I mentioned it in the chapter before but he's 16 now and still within the previous Synthesis run by Jay and Xed. Meaning? He comes from the World before the Predator system was established.

 **For new readers:**

Chase Lance Rolan is an original character of mine I use frequently in other fanfiction works as well as a few original works on fictionpress. Now, while his entire story has been established, I do not need you to read anything before this. I will be slipping in his background here and there to get a better understanding of his character as the story progresses. I've introduced enough to get a feel for his base but if you are still confused about anything, do let me know and I can try to correct this in later chapters.

However, I don't plan on revealing why he does certain things right off the bat. I want you to look at him, judge him, then find out why he does it, and then judge him again. You'll either love him, pity him, or damn him. Results may vary.

 _ **Now, without further ado, on with the show!**_

* * *

"Stewart?" Chase blinked as he approached the man. "What are you doing here?"

"Yo, Champ!" the assistant of Professor Oak raised a hand in greeting. "Good morning. Glad to see you made it to Viridian safe and sound."

"…The hell did you just call me?" Chase's scowl furrowed further. It was too early for this amount of cheery attitude. The coffee served at the MoéCenter was shit and _decaf_. He understood Joy's reasoning against giving a bunch of ten year old Trainers caffeine. He really did. But he was more mature than any of those brats.

…Okay, maybe not _mature._ But he was functional.

He was up earlier than the rest of the kids staying at the MoéCenter because he didn't sleep. The sun wasn't up when he decided to get moving. After scooping up Squeakers in one arm and a random kid's camping bag in the other, he started to leave towards the Viridian Forest.

Joy stopped him at the last instance. She had been dozing off at her desk before Squeaker's squeaking had stirred her. He thought she stopped him because she noticed the pack didn't belong to him. Instead, she wanted to hand him a package that had arrived.

Lance's starter bundle had arrived just as he promised. Within the small box came six Moéballs with a belt attachment to holster them, a flip phone (or something resembling one since there wasn't a call feature), a license for Training with a snapshot of his profile, and… a book.

 _The Idiot's Guide to MoéMonster Training!_

He wasn't sure whether to be insulted for being belittled… or thankful because the entire publication of this brand was more convenient than a Swiss Army knife.

A good hour after walking, he reached the outskirts of Viridian City and came across the boundary separating the city from Viridian Forest. There was an actual link fence around as far as Chase could see in either direction. The only way to enter the forest was through a small office building plopped at the center of the main road.

Once he walked in did he run into Stewart of Pallet Town.

"I see you managed to capture your first Moémon!" Stewart beamed a smile at him. He glanced at Squeakers snoring away across the top of his pack. He blinked, adjusted his glasses to make sure he was seeing right, and then blinked again. "Is that…"

"I'm going to be hearing that for the rest of my journey, aren't I?" Chase sighed. "She's a Magikarp out of water. Yes."

"Fascinating!" Stewart's eyes lit up. "How does she breathe? How were you able to pull her out of the water? Is she showing any signs of fatigue from being on dry land?"

"I think she's too stupid to realize she's out of water," Chase gave the same answer he gave everyone else. "I'm still waiting on her to realize it and start flipping out."

Squeakers continued to squeak away in her deep sleep.

"By the way…" Chase's brows furrowed. "How did you get here exactly?"

"Hmm?" Stewart looked away from the rare specimen and glanced at Chase. "Oh. I drove, of course. I'm not fit for long hikes. I'm in this office waiting for the warden to find the gate keys so I can drive on through."

Chase wanted to strangle the man. He _drove._ Chase wanted to leave for Viridian as soon as possible because he didn't want to wait a full week. That was why he went ahead. Then comes in Stewart first thing in the morning the next day _with a car._

"Now why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" Chase asked with a strained voice.

"Because… I did not expect to be pulled from my work so suddenly," Stewart adjusted his glasses again and answered plainly. He was oblivious to how close he was to getting a knife through his kidney. "It wasn't very long after you left. Professor Oak gave me a call and told me to drop everything and pack my things. I am to examine the unique environments all across Kanto. I was so excited I haven't slept yet. I drove the whole way as soon as my equipment was ready. And… here I am."

"…Just out of the blue like that?" Chase asked with some skepticism. "Like, no warning at all? And you went along with it?"

"If it is in the name of research I am ready to meet my maker!" he replied boldly and with his head held high.

"You willing to give me a lift?" Chase asked.

"Certainly," Stewart answered with a smile. "I have plenty of room for you and your Moémon. However, one of those studies I mentioned before focuses here in Viridian Forest. I will be spending some time observing the habitat and behavior of the local Moémon."

"…And how long will that take?"

"A day, perhaps two at most," Stewart said while rubbing his hands and looking away in thought. "Most of Viridian Forest has already been recorded by previous researchers and Trainers. I'm only here to observe the recent activity, record my findings, and reach Pewter City to transfer the data to Professor Oak. The League has been interested as of late and requested his assistance.

"It's a good thing I ran into you. I was considering hiring one of the wardens to escort me through the forest. But with a Trainer like you at my side I'll feel at ease."

"Maybe you should buy a map just in case," Chase suggested. "I'll protect you, sure. But don't rely on me to navigate you through somewhere I've never been."

At the least, if Stewart was honest about his research, then it would mean he would be a day ahead of schedule. Every hour counted if he was going to have to follow Lance's stupid quest. The sooner he got all eight badges, beat the Elite Fucks, and beat Lance, then the sooner he can go home.

A moment later, someone dressed in park ranger greens came from the back of the office with a set of keys and more documents. He asked for Stewart to sign them; the assistant did and exchanged a few more words. The ranger— or _warden_ — gave Stewart a map of the forest's routes.

As usual, the warden asked if the thing sleeping on Chase's backpack was really a Magikarp.

They all left the office and went around the building.

Stewart's car was an old Toyota pickup truck. There was a tarp tied over the heap in the back, assuming it to be all of Stewart's equipment for his research and traveling needs. The front held three seats, which was perfect for the three of them. Chase tossed the camping pack into the back where he could before tucking Squeakers into the middle seat.

The little fish-girl was still knocked out cold. A snot bubble was expanding and deflating with each breath.

The warden undid the lock, unwrapped the chains, and threw the gate open. He gave a signal for Stewart to go ahead… followed by a 'good luck'.

Chase's eyes narrowed at that. The man didn't hesitate at all in sealing the gate as soon as Stewart was past it.

"…What can you tell me about the forest?" Chase asked.

"Well… it's not particularly a large forest," Stewart began. "But it can be confusing. It takes Trainers three days to travel because the road is so... tricky. Here. Right here. Look."

Stewart had to slow down and lift himself to peer over the hood of his truck. They had to turn the car and began to climb down an uneven hill. Further down, Chase could see there was another turn they would have to make.

"It's easy to get lost if you don't follow the road," Stewart mentioned. "In actuality, if you could go straight you'd be out of the forest in a single day. But many Trainers have tried and few have succeeded. The most notorious being Fuchsia City's Gym Leader, Koga, in under four hours. The rest, I'm afraid, were captured by the forest itself."

"I'm going to assume the Moémon inhabiting the forest are dangerous," Chase said as he looked out the window. He tried to see if there was anything out there but couldn't see anything past the first layers of trees.

"Yes and no," Stewart answered as he licked his lips. There was another tricky turn ahead. "The forest is mainly inhabited by bug type Moémon. All low leveled and easy for any starting Trainer to dispatch. Normally they keep to themselves, eating the vegetation until evolving. However, provoke their nests and they will swarm you with their numbers."

"What kind of bugs?" he asked next.

"Hmm?" Stewart blinked at him before swiveling his head back towards the road. "Oh. Just the Caterpies and Weedles. The Venonats were driven away from the forest years ago. You'll find plenty of them in the Safari Zone, I think."

"Good to know," Chase said while making a mental note of the names for later. He'd have to check to see if the Idiot's Guide had anything on them later. "If we stay on the road will we be fine?"

Stewart made an uncomfortable expression. "I sure hope. Unfortunately at some point we're going to have to get off if I am to fulfill my task."

There was that.

"What exactly do you have to do?" Chase asked next.

"The League requested help from Professor Oak," Stewart repeated what he shared earlier. "Something has been agitating the Moémon in the forest and I'm to observe their behavior. I wasn't told to find the source but just to check and make sure their aggression doesn't threaten to escape into the cities."

Now the farewell offered by the warden made better sense.

"Shouldn't Professor Oak be doing this instead of his assistant?"

"I'm capable of fulfilling this task," Stewart said bitterly… and with some lackluster confidence. It sounded more like he had repeated it a thousand times and was now saying so to convince himself.

"I'm saying if the League wanted something this potentially dangerous done, then shouldn't they have sent someone more qualified and experienced? Maybe with a Trainer working directly for the League in case shit hits the fan? Look, Stewart, you don't exactly look like a field agent."

"To be quite honest I don't want to be here either," he slouched in his seat. "But needs must! I asked the Professor to allow me this chance. I knew I was getting too comfortable in the laboratory. I cannot call myself a Moémon researcher if I cannot analyze them in their natural environment. There was only so much I can learn from books and the ranch."

Chase's brows rose slightly at that. The man had impressed him. Put him back on his world and he had the makings to join the Researcher Symphonies.

…As a scrub. Stewart wouldn't last a single operation.

But the man was dedicated, he'll give him that. He was determined to find the truth with his own eyes. He didn't want to learn something that somebody else had discovered. He wanted to make the discovery on his own. He had the makings of a true researcher.

"Let me know when we get there…" Chase leaned back in his seat and pulled out the Idiot's Guide from his inner coat pocket. "…And let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Having you at my side is more than comforting," Stewart gave a nervous smile. "A Trainer was exactly what I needed. Say… I never got your name, did I?"

Chase put the book down for a moment. He thought about it.

"No, I don't think you did. It's Chase."

Stewart nodded and went back to focusing on the road. While the drive was faster than walking pace… it was still aggravatingly slow. And the bumping was unwelcoming.

And Squeakers' squeaking at every jerk made by the truck was going to get to him soon. At the least he could distract himself with the book.

 _Chapter One: So You Wanna Be the Very Best, Like No One Ever Was?_

0-0-0

It was maybe an hour later when his head snapped up. While he had been reading about the bare minimum on the requirements of a Trainer, he had continued to keep track of his surroundings. It was difficult considering the truck was swerving like a rocky boat on choppy waters and the sea of trees blended with another.

But he felt something. He felt the indescribable sensation of having eyes on him. Something was out there, watching them.

He shut the book and put it back in his pocket. His body tensed as he stared out the window. Aura coursed through his veins and reinforced his body.

He felt naked. He couldn't use his abilities other than physical augmentation. He didn't have any weapons besides the tactical knife. And the Moémon that was supposed to protect him from wild Moémon was _Squeakers._

Squeakers, who had unbuckled her seatbelt and sprawled herself over his lap just to make herself comfortable. It was a good thing his coat was waterproof or her drool would stain the white fabric right around his crotch area.

"The road giving you a headache?" Stewart asked. "It's a little bumpy. I'm surprised you managed to get that far for so long—"

"Drive faster," Chase said in a sharp voice. His eyes never left the window.

"Huh?" Stewart glanced at him for a second. "I-I can't. It's too dangerous to go any faster than this. We might hit something or flip over. I have valuable equipment in the back."

His eyes picked up something. Multiple somethings. There were flickers of movement. Leaves and twigs were swaying in the wrong direction. They were moving against the wind while the untouched branches moved naturally. Something was definitely out there… and in numbers.

He thought about telling Stewart. But the man might panic. Sure he'll drive faster out of fear but throw caution out at the same time.

Stopping the car was the worst choice. They would be stationary targets. They needed to keep moving. But if they followed the road at the same pace then they would be predicable. They needed to remove that factor.

The only way to remove predictability was to go off the road. To do that would be to attempt the forest directly. No, the car was too wide to fit through most of the gaps. Abandoning the car and attempting the forest was an even worse option than staying stationary.

God how he wished he still had his powers so he could burn the forest down.

There was only one thing he could do.

He rolled down the window, leaned his head out, and shouted, "I have a Moémon and I'm not afraid to use her!"

Intimidation. With his trademark scowl, deep voice, and complete fuck-off attitude, he could intimidate almost anything into backing off. It was yet another useful trick that helped him survive the war.

It did not work this time.

If anything… it seemed to trigger the things hiding within.

"Duck!" he shouted and yanked on Stewart's collar.

The man yelped and nearly skidded the car into a tree if he didn't slam on the brakes. Tiny needles pelted against the side of the car. With the window open, a wave of needles would have struck Stewart. Instead, they flew over his head and struck onto his side window, cracking the glass but never penetrating.

"Drive, drive!" Chase barked as he had to manually crank up the window. It wasn't electric.

Stewart sputtered something incoherent as his mind went into overdrive. Just as Chase predicted, the man threw caution out of the window for the sole sake of survival. He slammed his foot down on the pedal and just drove.

They swerved off of the dirt road on a sharp turn. The tail of the truck struck a tree, knocking them around within the interior. One of the straps on the back came undone and a few items of Stewart's equipment flew out. He either didn't notice or didn't care. Stewart continued to drive like a madman.

Streams of silk shot across the road, trying to block them. But the truck plowed straight through, tearing through most of them while others stuck onto the hood and grill.

Chase looked to see some of the strands had something attached to the end of them. Or, rather, things that refused to let go.

He saw a couple of toddlers no older than Squeakers being dragged by the truck. They all had blonde hair and were dressed in gold and red kindergarten uniforms. Some of them, astonishingly, were able to remain on their feet as the truck dragged them. They were trying to make it stop!

But, one after another either stumbled or lost the strength to hold on. They were left in the distance.

"A-Are… Are they gone?" Stewart asked in a high-pitch fully frazzled and terrified. "Did we lose them? Are we clear—"

The right front tire blew out. Something had punctured the wheel, making it explode and forcing the truck to swerve uncontrollably to the side. Stewart tried to regain control but it was to no avail.

Chase only had an instant to see what came next. Something the size of a medieval jousting lance came flying out of the forest like a missile. It struck at the side of the car, further pushing it against the direction of the broken wheel. Chase slammed into Stewart and he in turn slammed back into Chase from the whiplash.

They were forced off the road… and off of a steep hill.

Sideways.

Time slowed down as Chase realized they were airborne… and almost upside-down.

Time resumed at its normal pace once they hit the ground and began to tumble around. The car bounced twice, maybe thrice, before being slammed into a couple of trees and being forced to stop. It didn't last any longer than five seconds… yet Chase felt like he had just been tossed around inside a pinball machine.

The most annoying part… was that he heard Squeakers whenever she ricocheted around the compact space. All nineteen times.

Aura reinforcement or not… he knew he was bleeding. He slammed his head against the dashboard and side window. The glass was cracked in a spider web design with a blotch of red and some hair sticking to it.

"Stewart," he called out, trying to fight back the black spots in his vision.

The man didn't respond. He was unconscious with his face planted onto the wheel. The horn was blaring.

"Squeakers," he called out next.

The Moémon tried to stand up on her seat. She was dizzy with her eyes spinning around. Her arms were flailing around in an attempt to keep her balance. Other than that… she was unhurt.

Not only was she so stupid to not realize she needed water to breathe… but she could ignore severe injuries as well. He wasn't sure whether to be amazed… or worried.

"Good morning," he said to her in a blunt tone.

She was too busy holding her head between her hands to regain her equilibrium.

His senses flared. Things were making the trees shift. Whoever attacked them were approaching.

He couldn't get out on his side with how the truck was against the trees. He couldn't get out through Stewart unless he wanted to risk increasing the man's injuries. His only option was to go through the windshield.

He put his hand on the glass, hardening and binding the cracked surface into one sheet with his Aura. The application didn't work. He couldn't apply Aura to any external surface outside of his skin. But he could apply some to his clothes?

Lance's limitations were seriously bullshit now.

He lifted his leg up afterwards and kicked one corner.

The glass panel popped out without fully shattering.

Chase crawled onto the hood and stood up. His body was sore from the crash but he could still function. Nothing was broken. The slight concussion would hinder him… but he needed to get out of here first. He would have to grit his teeth and hope he didn't pass out anytime soon.

He readied himself, applying more Aura to his body and clothes. He drew the tactical knife and put his back to the tree.

Squeakers came out, landing flat on her face at first, before getting back up. She held the same fierce look of murder in her eyes as she did when challenging the Arbok. She was ready to throw down as she cracked her knuckles.

He made a mental note that if this was going to become a normal thing… he was going to teach her how to use the knife.

He heard them approach. They descended out of the trees on strands of silk and out of the bushes. There were three types of Moémon, though they all shared similar qualities.

The first were the kindergarteners. There were at least twenty of them.

Second were the slightly older elementary girls in golden blouses, red skirts, and bright yellow birettas with black embroidered eyes at the front. There were twelve of them.

Last were the middle school girls… or at least girls who should have been just as old but had forgone the uniforms. Instead, they dressed in white leotards with black and gold stockings. Bee-like wings twitched at their backs. But in their hands were weapons. There were only five of them and they all had a pair of lances.

But… those lances were much smaller than the one thrown at him.

There. In the far back. There was a fourth creature.

She was by herself. Long hair as bright as sunshine, glowing red eyes, and fair skin. She was the eldest of them all, appearing to be in her high school years. She wore a black and gold low-cut dress with a short skirt, black and gold striped stockings with garter belts, and black boots and gloves.

She had a set of four wings. In her hand, casually carrying as though it were weightless, was the twin of the jousting spear still impaled into the side of the truck.

She looked at Chase with disdain. She was disgusted by his presence. She raised the spear up at him in challenge.

He had to hold Squeakers back by the collar of her dress. The dumb thing was rolling up her sleeves and about to _Splash_ all over the queen bee.

"Come at me you fucks and see how many I take you with me," he snarled, baring his canines while raising his knife.

It was a bluff. He had his back against the tree so he couldn't be surrounded but he also had no escape route. All they would need to do was shoot their needles at him and it would overwhelm him. It'd be like a thousand bee stings at the same time. Death by a thousand cuts.

But it had worked. Despite their numbers and supernatural abilities as Moémon, they were all little girls. Their eyes widened in hesitation. The two youngest groups took quick steps back. The oldest ones exchanged glances amongst themselves.

But the leader… smirked. Her impression of him went from disgusted to intrigued in a flash.

She adjusted her lance to point upwards, stood straight, put her heels together…

…And started to dance in some tap shoe rhythm.

Chase wasn't sure what he was looking at. Something was going on he couldn't understand. But the rest of the Moémon did. They all came at attention, hopped once while clicking their heels, and stepped away to give her a wide berth.

Communication, he realized. They were communicating through… Celtic line dancing.

Fucking bees.

The leader readjusted the grip on her lance. Her eyes locked on him as her wings twitched with anticipation. She lowered her stance into a crouch, ready to kick off the ground and charge at him.

But like fuck was he going to fight her. He saw his opening. He was going to have to abandon Stewart but he was going to get past all these insects. All he needed was to wait for the opportune moment.

Her wings twitched once again. She launched forward without kicking up the dirt. Her body was a blur as her wings drove her forward. He recognized the technique as Quick Attack.

…But it was transcendently slower compared to Aerodactyl.

Low level Moémon, indeed.

She came at him to impale the lance through his chest. He ducked at the last instance, she adjusted her aim, and his knife slid across the side of her weapon to push it away from piercing through his neck. Her strike held power. Despite the difference compared to the Champion's Moémon, this queen bee was still stronger than the normal human.

She could probably challenge the average Acolyte or Tactical Hunter. But she wouldn't last against an Ender… or a Blueblood Acolyte like Chase.

He watched her eyes widen after realizing her attack had failed. He watched her watch his fist approach the side of her face and knowing her own momentum was keeping her from dodging.

He couldn't put much into it. The footing was all wrong and he had put more effort into deflecting her lance. All he could do was jab to get her off of him. But with the infusion of Aura was it like running into an extended rubber mallet.

She stumbled off of the hood of the car and rolled onto the grass. She spun once, catching herself with her wings, and ready herself for another attempt.

He wouldn't give it to her. He had already picked up Squeakers, pumped Aura through his legs, and kicked off of the hood. He leapt over the Moémon, landed on the top of the hill, and began to sprint deeper into the forest.

He heard the sound of rhythmic beats on the hood of the car. More tap dancing. Soon afterwards came the buzz of commotion like a hoard of insects scrambling into action.

They were after him. He heard the buzzing of wings. The bee-girls were pursuing him.

If it were open land then he could outrun them. But this was their territory. The trees were getting in his way and he had to constantly shift his balance and footing to not trip over the chaotic floor. They belonged here; they lived here; they would be upon him in a matter of time.

His heart hammering against his chest was making his head throb. His vision was blurring.

He couldn't outrun them. He needed to find a place to hide. He couldn't press on like this.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he snarled and halted in his tracks.

His Aura was detecting life up ahead. A lot of it. More of those bug Moémon were approaching his direction.

Now he was surrounded. Bugs at the front and at his back. And he without his weapons and his abilities.

If he miraculously managed to survive this… he was going to stab Lance in the face.

"Squeakers, if you happen to have some sort of secret technique, now's the time to use it."

She looked up at him, gave him a bold smile, and gave him a thumbs-up.

He let her go— she landed flat on her face but got up immediately after. She began to stretch, pulling her arms over her head, twisting her waist, and bending over to touch her toes. With another roll of her arms, she clapped her hands, pumped her fists together, and stared at the opposition.

A swarm of green-haired children came out of the trees and bushes in the same manner the yellow girls did. They either came from the ground or descended from above on strings of silk.

The first wave were a group of toddlers in green dresses and red ribbons. They even had matching green hair.

The second wave were elementary school children but had traded school uniforms for green pajamas, a nightcap, and blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They looked ready to pass out at any instance.

The trees rustled again. A third wave appeared.

Preteen girls in violet blouses and white skirts appeared. Instead of green, they all had violet hair. On their back were a pair of butterfly wings.

They made way for the lone fourth figure.

She was a teenager with a soft face, bright red eyes, black hair as smooth as silk, and dressed in a similar violet and white blouse. Large butterfly wings with intricate weavings were at her back. Her eyes met him and instead of hostility came worry and relief. She smiled at him, something sweet and genuine.

…He couldn't look above her chest. Like the queen bee, this girl had a more mature figure with a matching dress. But her blouse was less of the modest low-cut of the bee's. Really, it was only covering the lower half of her tits.

And her tits were huge.

He wasn't sure who to blame for this one. Lance and his laws? Or the entire Moémon ecosystem? Under what circumstances would any person who lived in the forest need to dress like that?

Another part of him wondered if it was on purpose. That smile was all fake. She acted and dressed like this to abuse ten-year-olds who had recently left their mothers on a long adventure, only to lure them into a trap.

He was going to assume she was a threat. He didn't lower his guard.

Squeakers stepped up to the first group of green children after finishing her warmups. They looked at her with curiosity, taking glances at another and silently asking the other on what they should do or treat the fish Moémon.

They didn't get a chance. Squeakers attacked.

She fell at their feet and began to flop around, this time adding rolling around to her Splash technique.

He didn't expect anything from her at this point.

The buzzing approached and broke through the clearing. The queen bee was the first to make it with the lesser bee-girls close behind her. She stopped in her tracks and hovered in the air.

She locked eyes with the butterfly matriarch. The butterfly-girl's expression turned into a worrisome frown. The queen bee's hardened to one of disdain.

Both green and yellow girls tensed. Yellow was outnumbered until the rest of their numbers could catch up. But the other butterfly girls looked harmless compared to the lance-wielding bees. Just from the way they carried themselves, they looked green when it came to combat.

…No pun intended.

Chase realized he was in the middle of two opposing forces. He could either use this to have them attack the other and slip away… or, which was the more realistic and probable happenstance, he was going to get dragged into this mess and be forced to fight them both at the same time.

His head continued to throb. He was seeing black spots in his vision. The blood continued to trickle from his right temple. The concussion was pretty bad.

If he tried to use his mask and bring out his Flame and Frost, the strain on his mind would have him collapse right after the first spell. It meant even if he could burn or freeze the area around him, he would black out and end up victim to his own aftermath.

Meanwhile, the thing that was supposed to help him against other Moémon was still flailing around in the dirt. Two of the green girls exchanged a glance; one of them picked up a stick and poked Squeakers. They thought there was something wrong with her.

The queen bee raised her lance, pointing it at the butterfly matriarch. With her foot, she dragged a line across the floor and then dragged her heel back until finding a fighter's stance.

The butterfly's eyes widened slightly with her frown becoming more prominent. She closed her eyes with resignation. When they opened up, there was fierce determination on them.

She put her hands up… and began to clap and snap her fingers in a specific rhythm.

The green girls all came at attention. They lined up into a formation, spreading out into two sections with enough gaps for every one of them to be seen by the enemy. In perfect unison, they twisted their bodies, crouched down, and began to march forward.

…All the while snapping their fingers like a scene straight out of West Side Story.

If the bees communicated through tap dancing, the butterflies communicated through snapping. They were telling their opposition something.

Whatever they were telling made the bees furious. The younger ones gasped with horror while the queen's face flushed crimson. Her eyes widened with ferocity. The grip on her lance tightened as her wings twitched.

That was the signal.

The bees launched forward. The queen challenging the major butterfly while her underlings challenged the others and the green girls on the floor. Needles, silk, and lances were thrown everywhere.

Chase scooped Squeakers back into his arm and began to run towards the outskirts of the skirmish. He ducked just as one pajama girl was thrown where his head would have been. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her body… and completely broke through a solid tree as though it were made out of glass.

"Mister!" he heard someone call out to him. Some kid by the sound of it. "Mister! Over here!"

He saw a child in a sunhat waving a bug net from behind the bushes. He was trying to call Chase over.

Of course, from getting his attention did the child also get the attention from some of the other bugs. The bees in particular. Two of them stopped harassing their counterparts and zipped immediately towards him. Some of the green girls tried to stop them, but they were too fast and flew around them with ease.

They tackled the boy to the ground while one of them grabbed his net. She snapped it over her knee and began to tear the net apart with such animosity as though it had wronged her in the worst way imaginable.

Chase didn't see what became of the kid. He kept running. In the other direction.

Strings of silk shot from the sides of the forest, forming a thick net and cutting off his route. He almost ran into it.

The yellow girls had caught up at last. They were flanking him. Some of them ran hands through their hair, pulling out strands… which straightened and became petrified.

He swerved around a tree just before they threw the same needle technique they used on the car. The needles either missed him or landed against the tree.

"One grenade," he snarled. "You couldn't let me keep _one_ grenade?!"

Squeakers was tugging on his coat while remaining under his arm. She was looking at him with a solid expression. She wanted to fight.

"Do you know anything other than Splash?" he asked. "Can your hair turn into throwing darts too?"

She looked away, putting a finger to the bottom of her chin, and thought long and hard about it.

He couldn't afford to wait for an answer; odds were she didn't know anything else or would have used it. Yellow girls were coming from above, slinking down on strands of silk and preparing to hit him with more needles.

"For fuck's—" he began to swear before diving out of the way. A barrage of needles impaled themselves into the tree while another set bounced off of his Researcher coat. However, a small number of them scratched against his face and dug into his collar.

They felt as annoying as bug bites and bee stings.

As he moved, he heard the clatter of rhythmic tapping on the tree he was just on. One of the girls was sending out a message.

One of the bees answered. She disengaged from one of the butterflies, swerved around through the trees, and came at him. Her wings buzzed while she flew forward in a Quick Attack with her lance pointed at him. However, she was a lot slower than her boss.

 _However,_ he wasn't in any condition to keep fighting at this point. He could barely stay up on his feet.

He picked up one of the pajama girls— he heard her yelp in surprise— and flung her around like a club. The girl squealed, tightened her blanket around herself, and scrunched her eyes for the impact.

Before the lance could reach his chest, he struck the bee across the side of her head with the pajama girl. Pajama girl won. The sound of stone against flesh and the crunching of broken bones was heard. The bee went down, rolling around from her momentum, before sprawling gracelessly on the floor.

She tried to get up. Her hands were flat on the ground and she tried to raise herself. The side of her face was starting to swell up with a nasty bruise. She couldn't open her eye.

"Thanks," Chase said to the pajama girl.

The pajama girl in his hand looked up at him with her sleepy eyes. She snapped a finger and pointed at him. It was a universal gesture of 'no problem'.

Squeakers didn't appreciate the save. She smacked the pajama girl out of his hand and shot him a glare. She reached for his hand and placed it on top of her head. Her glare intensified with intent.

…She wanted him to use her as a club next time.

"I'm considering it," he sighed and tucked her back under his arm.

"Hey you!" called out the same boy from before.

Chase looked; this time he was waving his hat. His clothes were torn and his skin was starting to swell up from needles sticking out of him.

"This way!" he shouted again. "Over here! Hurry!"

Chase hesitated, this time waiting for bees to swarm him a second time. When nothing happened, Chase headed towards him, cutting through bushes and hopping over a few downed Moémon.

"Was there anyone else with you?" the boy asked in hushed urgency.

"One," Chase responded, crouching down and hoping the high bushes could cover their appearance. "Those bugs drove us off the road. I had to abandon him while fleeing."

"You left him?" the boy almost shouted.

This time, he used Squeakers as a club. Her squeaking was a lot quieter than the boy's shouting.

Squeakers looked like she had accomplished a life-long dream.

"Keep your voice down," Chase snarled. "If I stayed, we both would have died. Do you have a way out of here?"

The boy scowled like any other ten-year-old could while rubbing his head as if Squeakers could actually hurt him. "Yeah. We came when we heard the horn. Come with me."

He nodded and gestured for the boy to take the lead.

"…What does that mean?" the boy asked. "Something wrong with your neck? You have a couple of POISON STINGS sticking out so is that it? How come you're not affected by the poison—"

"For the love of… Go!"

He raised Squeakers, threatening to use her as a cudgel again. The boy got the hint; he squirmed where he squatted and hurried back onto his feet. He took off at a fast pace, not fully a run. Chase followed him right after.

He heard a series of snapping and clicking. The major butterfly was giving a command.

He looked over his shoulder and prepared his knife just in case they went to pursue them. But they didn't. If anything, the other butterflies flew low and blocked the path behind them. They were protecting him.

Their wings flickered. A light blue dust began to sprinkle out of their wings and drift aimlessly around them.

The butterfly matriarch flew back towards their group, never looking away from her opponent. She lifted her hands high as though ready to lead an orchestra. Her face warped into one of intense concentration.

An invisible wind carried the cloud of dust across the battlefield. She was directing it forward, to spread out and lay over the yellow opposition.

The queen bee clicked her tongue and flew up over the trees, breaking for the sky. Two other bees followed after her. But the rest of her group couldn't flee fast enough.

The dust coated over everyone. The green girls were unaffected. But the yellow ones began to blink furiously, shake their head, and then quickly collapse after taking a few steps.

Chase couldn't take the opportunity to check if they were just knocked unconscious or if it was a poisonous haze that had killed them. It was probably a last-ditch effort on their part to use this tactic. The green girls weren't warriors.

Despite having overwhelming numbers at the start, more than two-thirds of their group had been batted aside. They resorted to holding a defensive line rather than taking the offense. And it was the bees who were well aware of this and took advantage of this. It was a sign they had been fighting for some time before Chase came to this world.

The green girls were gathering their fallen comrades and carrying them in sacks of silk or being carried by the other butterfly girls. The matriarch was lifting them up with an invisible force through gestures with her hands.

Chase couldn't see what else happened, if anything. He never stopped following the boy. The Moémon behind them were out of sight by the sea of trees.

0-0-0

"Why does it feel like they're going to break out into song and dance at any second?" Chase asked while looking around.

The boy who he was with— Bill, or Bob, or Billy Bob or some shit like that— looked at him as if he were crazy. "Uh… They only dance. They don't sing."

"Where you from, kid?" he asked next.

The boy scowled at him, "I'm ten! You're not that much older than me. And I'm from Viridian City."

"You have no excuse to not understand sarcasm," Chase snapped back. And then he looked around once more, "Then again… it might be more literal this time."

The boy had led him into something of a small village built within the trees. It seriously felt like Chase had stumbled upon the Keblar's branch office. There were at least a good hundred green girls, a couple dozen pajama girls, and a small handful of butterfly girls. They came and went through the largest tree in the forest through several different holes with a purpose.

Chase didn't get to go into the tree just yet. Instead, the boy had taken him to an express elevator made by several strands of silk and planks and being cranked by more green girls. It lifted them up until reaching one of the upper layers of the tree, where a foundation of treehouses and bridges were made for them to walk across.

One of the green girls led Chase to one of the open lots, made him sit on a wooden stool, and apply some sort of green gunk to his wound. He didn't fight it. He only winced upon first contact by the stinging sensation until it began to numb.

The green girl smiled at him, danced around a little, and then went on with her other duties elsewhere.

"I don't suppose you know what they're saying…" he muttered, asking either the boy or Squeakers.

Squeakers was too busy scratching at the bandages agitating her own wounds. They were really just leaves wrapped around her arms and brow.

"Huh?" the boy gave him another look. "Mister, you must have really hit your head. Moémon don't talk."

He gave the boy a flat look. "That answers my question. Maybe not in our language but they're communicating in another way. Look at how they're dancing."

He gestured towards another group walking across the same branch. There wasn't enough room for the two of them to pass through. The one on the left bowed, twirled, and… for the love of God, she moonwalked backwards. The one on the right replied with the first set from Michael Jackson's Thriller choreography.

"Pfft," the boy blew raspberries with a superior smirk. "Shows how much you know, mister. I happen to be a Trainer; not only that, but I'm a Bug Catcher Trainer! I catch bug type Moémon. I know everything there is about them. Next thing I know you're going to try to tell me the Weedle, Kakuna, and Beedrill all can talk too, huh?"

The headache was returning.

All living creatures communicate one way or another. Bugs especially. In his world, they relied on vibrations and scents. There wasn't that much of a difference in this world.

Bees talked to another and established a hierarchy based on a set of movement patterns. Maybe not _dancing_ like what he saw earlier, but bees gave out commands by walking in a series of patterns.

Now, he knew next to nothing about butterflies and (what he assumed were supposed to be in substitution) caterpillars, but just from looking around he could tell they were all talking to each other one way or another.

He could tell this ten-year-old Trainer all of this. But it felt like it was going to fall on deaf ears. He remembered when he was ten. He thought he knew everything, didn't need his parents, and tried to run away. True it didn't work out in the end and the cops dragged him back home, but still.

He had a feeling that was why Trainers started so young. Because there weren't any annoying officers around to drag them back home until they turned eighteen.

"You don't think I'm a Trainer?" Chase searched for a new opening.

"No way," the boy waved it off immediately. "You're kinda too old to be a Trainer, mister. And you don't have the awesome presence of a Gym Leader so you can't be pretending. You look more like a traveler who got caught up in the feud."

Feud. What a big word for a ten year old brat. He was astonished he knew how to use it in a sentence.

"I'm not from around here," Chase admitted with a shrug. "I'm new to this region. What can you tell me about the Moémon here?"

"…Eh," the boy gave him a look of disinterest. Or more disgust as though Chase had asked him to take out the trash. "But it's basic knowledge. Everyone knows about Caterpies and Weedles. Why do I have to be the guy to explain things?"

"Is there someone in charge I can talk to then?" Chase asked with his annoyance slipping. "Like an adult or, maybe, a slightly older Trainer? Please don't tell me it's just you here."

"Oh! Ted can tell you everything!" he rose out of his seat with excitement. Rather, in excitement of shirking something important onto someone else. "He's been here the longest and should know everything! Wait here while I go get him."

Without another word, the boy ran off in search of the named Ted.

"How you holding up, Squeakers?" Chase asked while gently tapping at the gelatinous green gunk sealing his wound shut. It still stung but it was more of a throbbing pain than anything. His ability to focus was starting to return. Priorities were running through his head and the spots in his vision were clearing up.

It was no miracle medicine. The Shadow wouldn't allow him to pass out. By no means was it hastening his healing. It was only pushing back the pain so he could remain conscious. It will never let him have a moment of rest.

Squeakers was gnawing on the set of bandage leaves wrapped around her wrist. Every bite was making her teeth squeak.

"Yeah that's how I feel," he groaned and leaned back against one of the support pillars. But never did he lower his guard. He kept Aura flowing through him while keeping track of his surroundings. It was difficult with so many numbers surrounding him. All he could do was prepare himself to react should anything happen.

Time passed by. He watched the assault party of the major butterfly girl approach with green girls flocking towards them and carrying off the wounded elsewhere. The matriarch danced around, got dances in reply which more so resembled a coordinated flash mob, and she flew off into one of the holes within the main tree.

More time passed by. He was starting to think the kid wasn't going to come back and should start exploring on his own.

He stopped when his Aura detected something.

The matriarch herself flew up onto one of the bridges connected to this area. Her eyes met his instantly, quickly analyzing his body not for threats but… for wounds. A relieving smile graced her lips but never fully bloomed. She still looked worried.

With her hands clutched against her chest, she approached him.

He stood immediately and fully faced her. One hand was in his pocket, ready to draw out the tactical knife if needed.

Her eyes flashed in knowing of his intentions but she never slowed down. She never hesitated. She continued to walk at her own pace.

Squeakers stopped gnawing on her arm to look at the matriarch. But she never stepped up to defend him (and fail). She only watched her in silent awe.

She was close enough to be able to touch him. His eyes narrowed as more Aura coursed through him. His hands clutched around the hilt, ready to draw it out and use it.

She smiled at him and slowly, carefully and purposely to let him watch her, raise her hand towards his brow. He did watch her, drawing the knife out of the pocket in an equal gesture for her to see it and understand the intention. She continued.

Her fingers ran along the edge of his wound. It was a gentle touch. Silent compassion flashed in her eyes when she let her hand drop.

She took a step back, put her hands behind her back, and gave a bow. She remained there, waiting for him to do something.

"Thank you, if that's what you're waiting for," Chase began. "For taking care of me and Squeakers. I don't know what your intentions were, but I was able to escape those other Moémon with your help."

She lifted herself up and smiled a little more at him. She put her heels together, gave a tight twirl with her skirt lifting, and curtseyed with her right leg extending behind her left.

When she stood back up, she extended a hand towards him. She didn't want a handshake or his blade. He could at least determine that much. She wanted something else.

"I'll follow you," he said in a sharp tone. "But I'm not touching you. I saw what you and yours did to those Moémon."

Her brows lifted in astonishment. But she didn't falter in his blunt remark. If anything, she smiled again in understanding and retracted her hand. She turned and began to walk back towards the bridge, already expecting him to follow.

"Come on, Squeakers," he said while following her. He felt the eyes of all the green girls watching him. Both in awe of their matriarch and her presence and to observe him and what threat he might be to their lord.

Squeakers noticed too. She glared up at them, walked up to his side, and held to the hem of his coat. She was challenging them all. It would have worked if her glare actually meant anything or, maybe, she knew how to actually fight.

The butterfly led him across the bridge and into the tree.

It was a goddamn city within. Lines of silk extended across in a grand nexus of a highway only they could navigate while the interior of the tree had been hollowed out or carved into new buildings and hallways. It wasn't just random architecture either. Everything had a purpose and reason for their placement.

She took him deeper through the labyrinth. They passed through process lines where Moémon were dumping food sorts into containers, legitimate market spaces that distributed the food in exchange for stones and roots, and crafting workshops for barbaric tools. There were even hotel-like stations for Moémon to wander in, dance in front of the receptionist, and walk into a boxed area to sleep.

She led him through the core of the tree. There weren't exactly guards but there were two younger butterfly girls standing at attention at each corner. They jumped as soon as the matriarch appeared, moved in haste to the center, and opened a grand pair of doors.

Chase was led into what could be the combination of am amphitheater and a throne room. The space at the front was wide enough to host a couple hundred participants with a raised platform to fill a few dozen performers. At the back of the stage was the throne itself, carved out of wood and etched with beautifully majestic engravings matching the ones on her wings.

He wasn't the only one present. A group of human children were huddled together, sitting on the ground, with giant leaves full of nuts and berries. He spotted the Bug Catcher that had run off on him earlier. He looked sheepish and avoided making eye contact while he continued to eat.

"Is that…?" one of the children asked, looking at Chase.

Rather, at Squeakers. He knew what was about to happen.

"That's a Magikarp!" said another.

"It's a real Magikarp!"

"How'd he get it out of water?"

"Who cares? It's meat!"

"MEAT!"

…These sick fucks. He almost forgot the people of this world had no problems eating Moémon. They didn't see Squeakers as a toddler like Chase did. All they saw was a fish.

"Touch her and you lose a testicle," Chase threatened, flashing the knife at them.

All their faces turned white. They were just kids. They hadn't been exposed to these kinds of threats and didn't know how to react other than to cower in fear.

The matriarch put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a concerning look. He put the knife away and she smiled at him. With a nod, she flew over their heads and approached her throne.

Chase approached the group but chose to remain standing behind them. Two of the pajama girls approached him with leaves full of nuts, berries, and roots. One was for him while the other was for Squeakers.

He wasn't going to complain about free food. He hadn't eaten since last night. He didn't even take a complimentary donut from the MoéCenter.

Squeakers took it with excited delight, sat on the floor, and began to eat with gusto.

"Hey, hey, mister," one of the kids waved at him with a fake smile. "You saving the Magikarp for yourself or something? If you don't eat her now, she's going to get thin like us."

Chase looked at them once over. They were all in the same attire as the Bug Catcher— wide brim hats for the sun, tank tops, shorts, and sandals. But their frames were thin, even compared to the average ten year old. They weren't suffering from malnutrition… but possibly suffering from the lack of calorie intake.

He looked at his lunch again. As nutritious as this was, it wasn't very filling.

The matriarch was busy speaking— dancing, whatever— with two Moémon. She couldn't afford to look their way right now.

"My threat isn't a joke," Chase bit back. He tucked the leaf in one arm and began to pick at the lunch. "How about instead of freeloading off of these things you go get food yourselves?"

He had his suspicions on what they would reply with. He waited.

"We can't," the same kid said with his smile faltering. "The Beedrill Queen has most of the forest under her control. If we try to leave, we'll get swarmed by the Weedles patrolling the area. We once tried to eat some of the Weedle… James and Patrick died from the poisoning. The rest of us got sick pretty badly. You picked a really bad time to cross through Viridian Forest."

"…Tell me more," Chase said. He took a few steps forward, making sure to remain close to Squeakers and to keep an eye on all the kids, and sat down. He did it to appear opening, friendly, and harmless.

"Well we were starving when food was scarce," he began. "So we set up a trap to capture anything and caught a Weedle. Cooked it up and—"

"Not that," Chase snapped back in a harsh tone. "Tell me about the forest."

"What's your name, mister?" the kid asked first.

"Chase," he replied immediately.

"You're kinda old to be a Trainer, Chase," the kid quipped back with another fake smile while eyeing Squeakers. "The Weedles don't attack anyone that's not a Trainer, though. Ah, names' Ted. You can say I'm kind of the leader of this group. I'm eleven!"

He said that so proudly as though it were a grand achievement. An entire year of extra experience over these brats. Big woopty fucking doo.

Chase chewed for a moment while he thought. When he had sensed eyes watching him, he thought to intimidate them. Thus, he presented himself as a Trainer. And, therefore, triggering the yellow Moémon to attack him.

"What can you tell me about the Moémon here?" Chase asked next. "I know next to nothing about them. I'm new to the region."

Ted looked bothered but not as discouraged as the other Bug Catcher had been. "Um. Well… Viridian Forest mostly has Caterpies and Weedles. Caterpies evolve into Metapods and eventually Butterfrees. Weedles evolve into Kakunas and then Beedrills."

His brow twitched. _Evolve._ The kid said it as though they could spontaneously turn from a kindergartener into an elementary schoolgirl in a flash.

No. He had no reason to doubt the system. After all, his world had something similar. An Acolyte of a certain affinity could Evolve or Mutate it into a new, stronger, more complicated affinity. Why can't the Moémon system be exactly the same?

Plus… he had yet to see any other girl present within the tree being any age between the… Caterpie or Metapod stages.

"What about her?" Chase asked, nudging his head towards the matriarch.

Ted glanced at her for an instant before returning to Chase, "Her? She's a Butterfree."

"Any reason why she looks different from the other Butterfree?" he countered.

"She's sort of like this queen," was Ted's answer.

It made some sort of sense. Not much, but some. Back in his world, there was only one queen of any insect monarchy. Whenever they bred a new queen it was to take over their place. Or eaten if bred too soon while the queen was in power. In any case, the matriarch in question was in charge because she was the most mature-looking of them all.

If that were the case, then the Beedrill hierarchy made better sense. The queen Beedrill could be the legitimate queen because she was the strongest while the other Beedrill were just her warrior bees.

Of course, the rest of the logic was thrown out the window after considering why both queens were taking to the fields of battle instead of constantly breeding the next generation of their servants.

"Okay…" Chase nodded, accepted the alien logic, and filed it for later. Maybe there was something in the Idiot's Guide about it. "Do any of you know why the Moémon are attacking Trainers?"

"Just the Beedrill queen," Ted pointed out. "The Butterfree queen has been protecting us. But as the days drag on, her territories are getting pushed back. Pretty soon the Beedrill queen is going to be right at our doorstep."

His mind instantly swept through a process of preparations. Traps, food rations, training, organization of soldiers, scouting the area, scouting enemy forces, subterfuge, assassinations…

War. Something he was too intimately familiar with.

His heart began to hammer in anticipation, fear… and excitement.

"That doesn't answer my question," Chase said back.

Ted frowned this time. He didn't like Chase's attitude. "Look, we don't know. I was just traveling back from Pewter City when I was ambushed. They took all of my Moémon and I barely managed to find help."

He looked at the other kids. They were listening and watching. Some of them had a hunger for Squeakers. The rest were downcast as they recalled similar instances Ted was sharing.

Ten and eleven fucking years old and they had the expressions of Vietnam War veterans.

"Have you heard anything about this from the outside?" Ted asked next with urgency. "Does the League know about us? We've been missing long enough someone should have noticed. I've been here for three months!"

"I just found out about this today," Chase answered bluntly. "The League sent Professor Oak—"

"Professor Oak?!" half of them shouted with excitement and hope.

"Professor Oak's _assistant_ ," Chase finished with a deep scowl. "But we were attacked while on the road and driven off the road. He was hurt and don't know if he made it out alive."

"You left him," that one Bug Catcher reminded him.

Chase didn't deny it.

"They might have taken him…" Ted offered, though he doubted his words. "Professor Oak is strictly a Moémon researcher. His assistant should be just the same. If he didn't have any Moémon with him, odds are they took him to treat his wounds. They only attack Trainers and let anyone else walk by."

"Do you know where?"

Ted shook his head, "Not really. He could be anywhere in the forest. He could be at the nearest post depending on his injuries. Or he could have been taken to the queen's palace. None of us know where any of them."

For fuck's sake! Three months of being here and he hadn't been able to figure at least that?!

Commotion came from the throne-stage. The matriarch clapped her hands over her heads to get their attention. An assembly of Caterpie, Metapod, and a few Butterfrees moved onto the stage and fell into formation. They all gave an elegant bow towards the audience.

"They always do this whenever there's a new Trainer," Ted offered in a hushed voice. "They drag all of us here and put on a show."

There was no music as the Moémon began to dance. Chase put his food down and crossed his arms. He put as much focus on the display as he could, trying to keep track of all of their movements and positions. He kept track of who was doing what and who was partnered with who in this ballet.

Moémon leapt around like prancers, were captured when meeting their partners on the other side of the stage, and twirled around. Another group appeared and began to prance the same. But when they met their partners, they twirled and gracefully lowered themselves onto the floor. The dance resumed without a hitch, without a pause, without a gap between both actions.

It became chaotic in the next piece. Moémon were scrambling around across the stage. But there was an order to this— not one clashed against another or stumbled. Everything had meaning and was timed accordingly.

There was a story in all of this.

While the lesser Moémon were prancing around, the matriarch was waving her arms around, standing up on her tiptoes like a ballerina dancer, and spinning around. Her body flexed back and forth, arms swaying left and right in fluid motions. Never once did she look away from the audience.

The dance concluded when she was surrounded. A group of Moémon stood behind her, the Moémon in front of her all fallen on the floor, and she gently lowering herself into a seating position with her head bowed. Yet still her eyes never looked away.

The Bug Catcher Trainers all began to clap her hands. They looked bored, probably due to having seen this performance multiple times but clapped anyways to be polite to the ones giving them food and shelter.

The matriarch looked disappointed. Her lips quivered, on the verge of breaking into tears.

"…You're all fucking stupid," Chase said with his voice booming.

The clapping stopped. Heads turned towards him. Even the matriarch and her followers were watching him.

He was done with these _children_. How the bloody fuck the League let them wander across the country was beyond him.

He stood, dismissing the Trainers entirely, and addressed the matriarch, "I can't guarantee to be able to fix your problem, but I can help if you help me. I am a soldier— a warrior from where I come from. Do you understand me?"

"Problem? What problem?" one of the kids asked.

"Don't bother with him," the Bug Catcher he first met retorted. "The guy thinks their dancing is how they talk."

"Say what? And he called us stupid?!"

He ignored them. His eyes were locked on the matriarch's.

She was looking at him with astonishment… and hope. Her eyes widened. She rose back onto her feet and performed a curtsey. The same one she did when he had rejected to take her hand.

She understood him. And, to a degree, he could understand her and the dance recital she put on.

She wasn't gathering Trainers for their sole protection. She was gathering them to ask for their help. As Trainers, they should be able to do _something_ against the enemy Moémon. It was their job. For fucks's sake, it was on the first fucking chapter of the Idiot's Guide.

Something had triggered the balance of the Viridian Forest off scale. The two bug factions were equals not so long ago. But then the Beedrill faction, without warning, staged an aggressive assault. They were driving back the Butterfree faction to the core of their stronghold. If nothing changed, they might go extinct.

That last act… with the queen standing in front of a group of Caterpie huddled together. It meant she was the last defense and she knew she would fall one day. And the group she had been protecting was the exact same number of Trainers gathered here in the audience chamber.

He shouldn't accuse the Trainers of being incompetent. They were only _ten_.

He considered his options.

He needed to get out of the forest as soon as possible. But he wasn't sure if he could survive another skirmish against those damn bees. He would need the Butterfrees to escort him out. They wouldn't do it for nothing; he would have to help them out first.

No, there was no guarantee they would let him leave by doing a few small favors. Not after finding out what he was capable of. He was a valuable resource to their cause.

Therefore, if he was going to get out of this hellhole, he was going to have to give them a fighting chance.

He was going to have to cripple the Beedrill faction so hard even someone as squishy as Squeakers could fend them off.

"I need your best warriors," he said to her. "I need at least two escorts who know the enemy headquarter location— the Beedrill's palace."

She hesitated at first. There was something of a sad look in her eyes.

She curtseyed, stood, and clapped her hands. She twirled around, balancing on one foot at a time, and craning her arms towards her chest.

The Caterpie and Metapods all exchanged looks of disbelief. Even the lesser Butterfree looked skeptical. But any signs of insubordination was quickly relieved. They all curtseyed and began to scurry around to carry out her orders.

The matriarch flew over towards him right away. She had a sad smile on her face but a look of acceptance in her eyes. She made the same gesture to reach for his hand, pulled it back after knowing his reaction, and walked past him.

He followed. Squeakers followed him while munching on her giant leaf.

"…Wait," one of the Trainers blinked. "What just happened?"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Here's the second half. Managed to finish it pretty quickly.

I'm going to hate the morning...

Now to figure out what to do for Pewter City!

* * *

Five days. It was much longer than what he originally planned when entering Viridian Forest but it couldn't be helped at this point.

He had spent the last five days gathering as much information as he could on what he marked as the Beedrill faction. His escorts led him through a painstakingly long way that had to have timed movements from the palace and back multiple times. But it was to be accepted. Weedles patrolled the area, Kakuna were positioned as sentries, and the occasional random Beedrill flew around as messengers or officers to inspect activity.

He was in his element. He had learned how to navigate the path on his own— though the Butterfree queen wouldn't let him travel alone. And he learned to pick up the specific buzzing of a Beedrill's wings, how far away they were, and in what direction they were flying towards.

He learned the layout of the land just as much as he had studied the Beedrill faction's defenses. The palace was another grand tree, a sister to the one the Butterfree used. He expected a giant bee hive but instead they had hollowed out the interior of the tree just the same.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find any information about the interior. Not without getting too close to be spotted. There wasn't much of an option.

The damn Beedrill queen was smart. She had cleared out the trees near the main tree so her enemy couldn't sneak through while placing sentries to keep watch on the open land at all times.

Still, it wasn't foolproof. He studied them closely for the past few days. He saw a gap in their defenses.

"Does everyone know the plan?" he asked in one chamber within the Butterfree tree. He deemed it the war room. In front of them, sprawled out on a flat piece of carved wood that might be a table or a bed for all he knew, was one of the Trainers' map of Viridian Forest.

He had gone back to the truck at some point. All of the equipment was gone, including the bag he had stolen at the MoéCenter. There were no signs of Stewart.

In front of him were ten of the queen's best. There had originally been thirty but he had cut down those numbers after carefully examining each of their skills. Hardly any of them qualified but he didn't have the luxury to be picky. If anything, none of them were qualified to carry out a black ops mission like this.

The queen was also present. She stood beside him, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear while looking down at the map. There was an uneasy look on her face.

The rest of the Moémon looked at him with blank expressions.

His scowl deepened as he scratched the ridge of his brow. "Fucking hell. Alright. Listen again. Caterpie squad, you're coming in with me. Metapod squad— stay awake for at least five seconds!— you're going with the Butterfree squad and use that Kryptonian blanket of yours during the airdrop. Butterfrees, you're going to carry the Metapods and drop them through the rooftops once you get the signal. Then secure our exit at the trunk in this direction."

He pointed at one specific point on the map.

"Do you understand?" he asked while looking at all of them in the eye.

More blank expressions. One of the Metapods fell asleep at some point, had a snot bubble, it popped, and she awoke startled. Another Caterpie raised her hand in a universal educational gesture of having a question.

"I… I don't know what else I'm supposed to tell you," he muttered. "This is the fifth time and I can't lower my vocabulary any further. I know you all can understand my words. Why can't you understand the plan…?"

The language barrier was still daunting. While they had no problem understanding anything that came out of his mouth, he still had difficulty figuring out what any of their dancing meant.

He had yet to figure out complete sentences… assuming they even had any in the first place. All he could understand were intentions, emotions, and actions. His vocabulary was as low as a two-year-old's; he knew some words but didn't understand their complete meaning or how to properly use them.

On another note, he didn't dare to try. Like fuck was he going to dance in front of them.

Was their inability to absorb the information due to their age? The Caterpie and Metapods he could understand. But the Butterfrees? They looked old enough to be able to understand the gist of it.

Actually… how old were they, really? Did they have to reach a certain age in order to Evolve? Or were their lifespans more like insects where they were about to drop dead at any moment? Was he really talking to a couple creatures no older than a few weeks old?

Bullshit. They have a fully functioning city inside this tree. They're pretty intelligent for a bunch of overgrown bugs.

"Can you help me out here?" he asked the queen.

She was avoiding looking at his direction, pretending to have not heard his request.

…Even she didn't understand the plan.

It was a simple plan! Group A just follows him. Group B does nothing. Group C drops off Group B and flies to the rendezvous point. If anything, Group C has the most complicated of the jobs but it's just two simplistic tasks!

Maybe his standards were too high? He was too used to leading an elite group who were capable of leading missions on their own. He was too used to his teammates being able to get the job done with the best efficiency. For all he knew, with how long the Butterfree faction has been fighting and losing, he might be asking civilians to go on a raid.

Maybe the current queen was really just a princess? It would explain why she wasn't breeding new minions. The real queen could have been dead before passing on her knowledge to the thing standing beside him.

Fuck it.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he stood straight and tried to keep his composure. "But it looks like I'm going to be relying on you, Squeakers."

Squeakers was ready to draw some blood. She had mud stripes under her eyes and found a bowl to use as a helmet. She saluted at him.

Never before did he feel the urge to slam his head against something.

He was never going to get home if he couldn't get out of Viridian Forest. He hadn't even collected his first badge!

"Anything I can do to help?"

Chase looked up to spot one of the refugee Trainers, Ted, enter the room. Nobody stopped him. This was supposed to be a _war room._ What the hell were the guards doing outside?

"Unless you know how to fight or have Moémon hidden away somewhere, no, I don't think so," he returned flatly. He rested his hands on the table and looked at the child.

"I have this," Ted offered with a smile. He raised his bug net. "It's pretty effective against bug type Moémon."

The Moémon in the room tensed. They were eyeing the bug net as though it were a legitimate lethal weapon.

"You're too malnourished," Chase countered, more so coming up with an excuse not to drag the kid through the mud. "You'll slow me down. Go wait with the others. You'll be able to leave the forest once this is done."

Ted frowned at the comment. Like any other child who thought they knew everything and thought they were so important, he didn't like being told what to do.

"You're having the queens fight each other?" he asked next. His eyes were wide with more interest than ever before. To a child, he was thinking of how awesome it would be to see two of the forest's best battle against each other.

Chase sighed, slammed his hand onto the table, and stood straight. "No, she's staying here to protect your sorry ass. Now get lost."

"No? What do you mean no? The only one who can fight the Beedrill queen is— Hey! Let me go!"

Chase circled around the group, approached the kid, and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. Even for an eleven-year-old, the boy was too light to be healthy. He shoved him out of the room, effectively knocking him onto the hallway floor.

"What gives?!" Ted shouted and quickly stood up. "I'm only trying to help!"

"You're getting in the way," Chase snarled back and pointed down the hallway. "Stop distracting me from making sure you and your friends get out of here. Or, so help me, I'll break your legs and _drag_ you through the dirt road when I leave for Pewter."

Ted's face flushed with anger… and tears. In the end, he was still just a child. He didn't like being told what to do and didn't like the way Chase was snarling at him. To him, Chase was just some bully he couldn't stand up against.

He eventually left. Chase made sure he walked all the way down the hallway until returning for the war room.

The queen had her arms crossed and giving him an unpleasant look.

"He's going to get killed if he tags along," Chase reasoned as he stood to the end of the table at her right. "He's too young and doesn't listen. He's going to do something stupid if I accept his _help_. At worst, he could jeopardize the entire mission and put us in a critical position."

She nodded with understanding but still gave him an unpleasant look. She wasn't upset about Ted. She patted her hands against her chest, gesturing at herself.

He raised a brow at that, "What? You think I was going to let you tag along? Well, _Your Majesty,_ I can't let you do that. If something happens to you then it would mean your subordinates no longer have a leader. Even if we win, if we lost you, there wouldn't be a point. Your subordinates would still be battling against the Beedrill faction."

Her face softened but she continued to frown. She understood. The expression doubled when she glanced at the Moémon witnessing this exchange in this room. They were all looking at her, watching her make her decision.

She folded her hands at her front and bowed her head. She made her decision.

"Good," Chase said and went back to the map. "Now let's go over this plan one last time… Caterpie squad…"

0-0-0

"What are you doing here?!" he hissed under his breath.

He grabbed the queen by her wings and pulled her under cover. He had to cover her mouth to silent the shriek. A Beedrill flew over them and he prayed they weren't spotted. He waited until the sound of its buzzing stopped before counting to ten… and then getting out of the mud.

She sent as mean as a glare as she could at him. It could compete with Squeakers' on how adorable it was. She wasn't scowling at him because he muddied her dress (probably) or because he grabbed her by her wings (doubtful).

She was scowling at him because he questioned her attendance.

She followed him. He thought she was back in her palace with her guards. But no. She had followed him all the way to the Beedrill's stronghold.

"I don't have time for this…" he growled while resisting the urge to rub his temple. "You know what? Fine. But you are going to listen to everything I have to say. Got it?"

She smiled at him.

"Good," he said while sinking back into the mud. "Now follow me and stay low."

He began to crawl, using only his elbows and toes to push himself forward. The Caterpies with him followed suite. The queen followed soon after, not bothered at all in further dirtying her dress.

He put up a hand, signaling for them to stop. They listened immediately as the sound of their mud splashing stopped. He almost marveled at how well they responded to these sorts of hand gestures.

The only one who didn't get the memo was Squeakers, who bumped into him and squeaked. Fortunately, he expected this and even made sure there weren't any sentries within to hear her.

His eyes looked up through the bushes he was hidden under. It was right at the edge of the open land. He spotted the Weedle and Kakuna sentries positioned on the branches of the giant tree, watched their movements, and waited.

He chose this corner because there was one particular Kakuna who hated her job. She was bored every day and often fell asleep. Like right now. But just having her knocked out wasn't enough. The Weedle walking back and forward on the nearby branch could cover what she missed.

On another branch was a Weedle who drank too much during break times. He liked to believe she did it so she could have an excuse to take an extra break. He waited until…

There it was. The girl flushed, put her hands between her legs, and rushed off the branch to wherever it was Moémon went to relieve themselves.

Let it be known there wasn't a single bathroom, privy, or shithole in the Butterfree faction's tree. Chase and all the other Trainers all had to go outside for their business.

The first thing he was going to do when reaching Pewter was break into someone's house just to use their shower. Seven days without a shower was cutting it close to disgusting. The only river wasn't large enough to bathe in other than to wipe himself down with his own shirt.

He also added finding a new pair of underpants on his to-do list. This was just becoming unreasonable.

"Okay Squeakers," Chase called out and reached for her. He dragged her forward by the back of her dress while raising up to his knees. "It's your time to shine. Are you ready?"

Squeakers gave a salute. She had a stony face of someone who was about to make their country proud.

"Take out as many of them as you can," he commanded.

He didn't wait for her response. He leapt up to his feet, applied as much Aura as he could into his body in this short moment, and chucked Squeakers with all his might.

The fish Moémon flew through the sky like a rocket. She even pointed her fist forward with her knee upraised, making a position like a superhero flying to save the day.

She slammed against the trunk of the tree headfirst. Her helmet protected her but the impact made her squeak so loud it had everyone's attention. The Weedle and Kakuna patrolling all turned towards the noise.

Squeakers stood as though she didn't just smash into a thick tree going 120 mph, give or take. Instead, she shrugged it off, tossed off her helmet, and pointed her finger at each and every Moémon slowly enclosing her. She even gestured with her hands for all of them to take her on at the same time.

Then… she used Splash.

"Move!" Chase said and started sprinting. He used Aura to accelerate his movements, crossing through the field in hopefully enough time for no one to notice. The Moémon above were distracted with Squeakers. He just didn't know how long they would realize she was harmless and go back to work.

The queen was right beside him, flying low. Her face was full of concentration while her hands were raised as though holding something.

The Caterpies he brought with him were flying. No, they were being lifted by an invisible force. The queen was doing it, similar to how she controlled the wind to blow around that sleeping dust.

"Strings, right there!" Chase ordered, pointing to one of the entrances of the tree.

It was the lowest hole but still too high for him to jump. The queen could have flown up there but he didn't know the full extent of her powers. He didn't know if she could levitate him after her as well as the rest of the Caterpies.

He wouldn't risk it. They followed the plan.

The Caterpies opened their mouths and silk strands fired out. With amazing accuracy, each one of them landed right on the edge of the hole.

Honestly, he expected the silk to come out of their asses. You know, being bugs and all. Thank God it wasn't the case this time. He'd rather be touching saliva than shit.

As fast as he could, he began to climb up the silk rope. All the while keeping his body as tightly pressed to the tree as possible and making himself as discreet of a distraction as possible.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have worn his _white_ Researcher coat.

Nothing happened. No alarms were made and no buzzing of approaching Beedrill. They managed to get through and enter the fortress.

"So far so good," he said, keeping his voice down. The Moémon were watching him for their next set of orders.

He took a moment to check his surroundings, giving them a signal to wait while he scouted ahead. He was in a hallway. He could make out sounds of large activity up ahead but nothing nearby. Still, he moved cautiously.

He checked around the corners before gesturing for them to approach. They did without hesitation.

…He wondered.

He made hand gestures this time. Silent commands he would use with his teammates on stealth operations. _Two units, circle around and weapons free._

Two of the Caterpie advanced around the corner. They reached the edge of the hallway, peered around, and then gave him the sign for clear.

Un-fucking-believable.

They knew American military tactical signals but couldn't understand where on the map was their home?!

He couldn't afford to flip right now. He had to stay focused.

"Assume the Beedrill queen is aware of an attack," he said in a low voice to the queen behind him. She was crouched close to him but enough to give him space to move should something happen. "She's seen Squeakers with me before and is going to think I'm nearby. She knows I can fight her. If this was your palace, where would you go?"

She patted his shoulder twice and then advanced.

She didn't just have a suggestion. She knew exactly where to go.

0-0-0

She didn't take him to the throne room. She led him through a very bee-like labyrinth full of perfectly spaced columns and hexagon-shaped hallways. Just like the other tree, this one was full of bustling activity of a city. Even the structure wasn't that much different.

He found Stewart. As well as everyone else unfortunate to pass through Viridian Forest.

They were all petrified within solid tree sap. Looking at Stewart's peaceful expression within reminded him of the ancient mosquito from Jurassic Park. Maybe in a couple million years they'll figure out how to make a Stewartsaurus clone.

She took him instead to the highest point of the tree. There was a lookout station that peered over the entire Viridian Forest. From the top, anyone could see the top of the rival tree on the other side plus the two cities at the edge of each horizon.

Not a large forest, his ass!

Standing poised and ready for a fight was the Beedrill queen at the center. Both of her lances were resting at her hips with her hands resting on the hilts. Her eyes were locked straight ahead, glaring ferociously at the rival tree.

And there, still Splashing around despite being gagged and bound by several strands of silk, was Squeakers. She was tied up and shoved into a corner.

When they approached, the Beedrill guards around their queen drew their weapons and positioned themselves to protect her. But she didn't stir. She continued to stare outward.

"I feel like this is a boss battle," Chase began with dry humor. "Seriously high stage, a literal boss staring across the horizon with mini-boss goons surrounding her… the only thing I'm missing is the music while you give a monologue about your master plan or some useless philosophy on life."

The queen snorted. She turned around to regard Chase. She looked at him with curiosity and composed animosity. She wanted to tear him apart but was humored enough to not give into her own bloodlust.

Her eyes flashed over to the Butterfree queen briefly. A silent conversation between the two was exchanged before her eyes returned to Chase. She ignored the Caterpies completely.

"I don't suppose you two are willing to talk about whatever it is that's going on?" he tossed the idea into the air without much hope.

The Butterfree spread her arms out and lifted herself on her toes. She wanted to talk.

The Beedrill, on the other hand, glowered. She tapped the back of her heel against the floor three times.

"Go figure," Chase shrugged while putting his hand into his pocket, feeling for the tactical knife. "Look, I only know a few things going on. She's saying you're attacking her people and pushing her back. You two used to be friends, or something like that. Now, I don't know what the full story is, but I'd like to get out of here without being harassed.

"So either talk, or I tear those wings off and push you over the edge."

Her guard didn't like the threat. Their wings twitched while the position on their weapons shifted.

She clicked her heels. Immediately, her guard stood down— their response as sharp and immediate as any military back on his home world.

She glared at him, observing him and evaluate the credibility of his threat. He didn't blink. She knew he was capable of matching her speed and power. But she could also assume it was a fluke and attack him. Or she would be more wary of his actions and be more resourceful with her approach.

He was in the middle of her stronghold. All she would need to do is summon her entire army and he would be overwhelmed.

No. He really wouldn't. He wasn't hurt like before. He could use his mask and burn this whole place down if he wanted. But she didn't know this.

He briefly wondered how much he would burn before Lance decided to do his fucking job and solve this problem himself.

The Beedrill queen responded. She did not raise her weapons at him. Instead, grabbed the hem of her top and began to pull it upwards. She raised it high enough to expose the center of her chest without revealing the most sensitive parts of her modesty.

The Butterfree queen gasped and put her hands to her mouth.

Her chest and midriff were stained with pinkish leathery skin. It was a burn scar.

Burn marks. Out here?

His mind raced for possibilities. It didn't take him long to figure everything out.

"A Trainer, wasn't it?" he asked though didn't expect a response. "That's why you're assaulting any Trainer that comes through the forest. And… that's why you're trying so hard to fight your friend. It's not because she's trying to stop you. It's because you're trying to go after the Trainers she's harboring."

Her eyes sharpened as she let her blouse fall, hiding the scar once again. Her response was three consecutive taps with her toes.

He didn't need her confirmation. The look in her eyes was more than enough.

A Trainer had caused all of this. Probably some kid who camped out and lost control of their campfire. As the queen of this forest, she would have tried to put it out. With how headstrong she was to lead her army, she would have been the first to jump into the efforts as well.

It wasn't just a vendetta against Trainers. She was trying to protect her home. She saw Trainers as a threat that needed to be quelled.

"Yeah, I can't let you do that," Chase rebuked. His eyes sharpened to match hers. "By no means am I protecting them. Those dumbass kids deserve a good bashing to understand how the world works. But I can't let you kill them. I can't let you go after Trainers. I'm never going to be able to get out of this forest if you let your grunts constantly hound me."

She raised a brow. He noticed the hands resting on her lances changed grips.

"You can't keep this up either," he went on. "Don't you notice it? You're putting a strain on your own subordinates. You're exhausting all your resources in this crusade. Even if you win, Trainers will always travel through the forest. The League is already aware something is going on. When they don't get a reply from the man I was with, they'll send someone capable of defending themselves. A Trainer, possibly one of the Elite Four or the Champion himself.

"Will you drive your subordinates to extinction for your vengeance?"

Her eyes flared at him. He had struck a nerve. She knew and understood these words. It struck a chord with her. They were words she had considered herself and didn't want to be reminded of them.

She drew her weapons, her ferocity reaching its peak. Her wings buzzed as she launched forward, both lances pointed directly at him.

He spread his legs, tucked low to find his grounding, and brought out his knife. He was ready for the first engagement.

Something stopped her from advancing. The queen Butterfree had her palms pointed towards her rival queen, freezing her in place. Still the Beedrill's wings buzzed harder, pushing against this invisible layer. The Butterfree gave a gasp with her arms shaking.

She lost her control and was pushed back. The Beedrill shot forward like a bullet, three times as fast as before.

He moved to the side, ready for her. His Aura kicked him aside and out of her way. She flew past him, lifted up towards the sky, and came back around for another strike.

She reeled her arm back and threw one of her lances at him.

He moved away again. The lance impaled into the wood without harming anyone.

She was there to meet with him. Another Quick Attack had her shadowing her lance. She only needed to adjust her flight pattern to meet wherever he would have jumped.

She drove her lance towards his chest. He branded the knife against its tip and pushed it aside while being forced to twist his body. She retracted it and stabbed at him again. And again he parried it. She came at him again, and again, and again.

The fifth time had knocked the knife out of his hand. Her strikes were too fast for him to deflect consecutively.

But she didn't go for a sixth strike. She clicked her tongue and used her free hand to pull strands of hair off of her head. They straightened and petrified. They less resembled needles and more like arrows as she gripped them between each finger.

He wouldn't let her throw them at him. Instead, he closed the distance, ducked low, and ram a fist into her solar plexus. Aura application made her body jerk backwards with spit flying out of her mouth.

She gasped, trying to breathe and fumbled back. But she never lowered her guard as she threw those hair arrows at him.

He deflected them off of the sleeve of his Researcher coat. But it felt like he had just deflected three bullets. His coat could withstand that amount of power but it still made his bones ache. It was his turn to fumble as he hadn't been prepared for the impact force.

She came at him again, bringing her lance forward to pierce through his chest. If her hair was as strong as bullets, he didn't want to think what that weapon felt like. His coat might not be able to take it.

He dodged, trying to keep an eye on the tip of the lance and her eyes at the same time. Her eyes gave away where she was aiming at while the lance was off by only a small margin. It was her speed that was difficult to calculate. She was fast. Too fast for any normal human to handle. She was even pushing him.

This time only four strikes were exchanged. Her eyes narrowed in frustration as though something hindered her from attempting the fifth like before.

He stepped in and brought his elbow to her jugular.

She clenched at the last instance.

He didn't know what happened. But it felt like he had just tried to elbow a brick wall. His arm flared up in pain. Even with Aura reinforcing the limb and adding power behind it, the best he could do was push her back.

She used it to fly away at him, sliding back on her toes.

…And picked up the second lance she had thrown at him before.

"Fucking hell…" he swore. His knife was on the other side of the lot. She would be upon him before he could reach halfway. "I could use some help here!"

Meanwhile, the Butterfree wasn't doing anything. She had recovered from her telekinetic backlash but was just standing off to the side, watching. Her hands were clutched close to her chest with worry.

She couldn't do anything because the Beedrill guards were watching her. To them, a duel was commencing and they wouldn't allow any interference.

The only one to come to his aid was Squeakers.

She Splashed all the way over to their battle and was right at the foot of the Beedrill queen. None of the guards stopped her because they truly believed she was harmless. The Butterfree queen and her escorts were the more obvious threat. Squeakers continued to use her technique in an attempt to assault the queen.

Of course, nothing happened.

The Beedrill scowled with heavy annoyance. She raised her lance and drove it straight down.

She missed. Squeakers flopped out of the way.

She tried again, this time waiting for Squeakers to land so to not be able to dodge.

She still missed. Squeakers curved around the tip of the lance this time.

The Beedrill queen raised both her lances this time and drove them down. Repeatedly.

And every time, Squeakers miraculously was able to dodge each and every one of them.

The queen snarled with frustration.

…And then received an Aura-infused fist to the face while distracted. Her body flew back until her back hit the floor. One of her wings crumbled up beneath her as she slid.

"Thank you, Squeakers," Chase said while rolling his wrist. He didn't expect the hit to be that successful. He had put in enough effort to smash through a brick wall. Apparently her hardening buff wasn't in effect any longer. It had to be a conscious effort.

Squeakers probably would have saluted if she could. She was still tied up.

The queen planted one of the lances onto the ground and slowly rose to her feet. Her only good eye was blazing at Chase with damnation. The other one was swollen shut with a bleeding temple and swelling bruise. She nearly fell forward with pain; she had to drop the other lance to put her hand on her shoulder.

The wing she had landed on twitched on its own. It looked like Charlie Brown's kite after meeting with the Kite Eating Tree.

Without her wings, she was grounded. While grounded, her heightened speed as above average at best. She relied on her wings to boost her speed.

Still, she charged at him. By running.

He took back what he just said. His evaluation was wrong.

She was now a normal human.

He caught the tip of her lance with his hand and retched it out of her grip. She stumbled forward and landed on her hands and knees. She would have gotten back up if the pain on her wing didn't put her back down.

He tossed the lance aside. She was harmless now.

The Butterfree queen rushed to her side, trying to assist her.

But the Beedrill slapped her hand away and glared at her. She stood up on her own, forcing herself to by even pushing back her own subordinates.

She was still a queen. She couldn't afford to look weak in front of her enemy or her subordinates.

She turned and looked at Chase with a challenging glare. She wanted to continue her fight. She wasn't going to submit to him.

He considered his options once more. He could either end her or try to reason with her. No, she wasn't likely willing to listen at this point. Not while she was like this.

He didn't know what killing her might do. Would her subordinates stand down after their queen's death? Would they try to avenge her? Or would they fall into chaos like bugs and start going into a frenzy, attacking anything and each other until a new monarch was established?

Cutting off the head of the snake wasn't always the answer. He knew this. Getting rid of Xed won't stop the Tactical Hunters from pursuing him and his kind. Some new big shot will take up his place. The only way out of that mess was to completely demolish the Tactical Hunters.

Unfortunately, while he could burn this entire palace, there was an even worse monster in this world besides the Beedrill faction.

The League.

Chase put fingers to his lips and blew.

His whistle, echoing through Aura enhancement, could be heard throughout the entirety of the forest.

He had expected only the small group of Butterfree to come sailing in as planned. Instead, every Butterfree within the faction came with silk packs full of compacted Metapods. They flew out of the trees, carrying their payload, and reaching the Beedrill base.

The Beedrill queen turned with her eyes widening. She only pointed her lance towards the sky.

Her guard understood the intention. They took up their weapons and flew towards the oncoming Butterfree. Some of the Caterpie standing by their queen shot out silk strings to intercept them. Some Beedrill were caught while the rest continued to fly forward. They almost made it.

Riding on the back of those Butterfree was a Caterpie each. They shot silk threads at the unsuspecting Beedrill. Some dodged with quick reflexes. Others were caught, had their wings bound, and dropped at the magnanimous height.

Some Butterfree were attacked. They dropped their payload too early with Metapods falling onto the forest rather than onto the tree itself.

But the rest had made it.

Chase watched as it began to rain Metapods and their impossibly dense blankets. At the altitude, they had enough impact force of a cannonball. With dozens in each pouch, they shredded through the roof of the tree and its branches. Bridges and treehouses were knocked down. He could only imagine what sort of damage they were causing on the interior.

He couldn't solve this problem without the League (ergo, Lance) getting on his ass. But if the problem was solved through domestic interaction? He could blame it all on the Butterfree whenever Lance popped out of nowhere again.

Speaking of which, the Butterfree queen was looking at her subjects with a heavy heart but a proud smile. He had a feeling she had organized the extra reinforcements.

The Beedrill queen reached the edge of her lookout and peered over at the destruction. Her hands clenched against the edge as her head swiveled around. The pain of her wing didn't bother her anymore.

The expression on her face… she was realizing everything she head built was collapsing. With her army spread out, there wasn't enough to defend her own home. She probably believed she and her guard were the only ones needed if an attack ever happened.

"It's over," Chase said in a flat tone. "You lost."

She spun around. Her eyes blinked, not believing his words.

Horror was filling her presence. Something she saw in him was making her terrified.

He understood completely. She was weakened. Her subordinates couldn't come to her aid. She was defenseless against him.

Her back leaned against the edge. She was no longer staring at him even as their eyes remained locked. Her mind was trying to scramble for ideas on how to ward him off. He was watching every plan of hers fail until one last option remained. She was considering leaping off to her death.

He became confused. She wasn't afraid of death. She wasn't afraid he was going to kill her. She never was. She was afraid of _him_.

"Don't bother," he said, turning away from her to walk towards his knife. "I'm done here. Just accept that you lost."

He picked up the knife and checked the edge. He would need to sharpen it as soon as he could. Until then, he put it back in the sheath within his pocket.

The Beedrill never looked away from him. Fear and anger were bombarding her psyche. She was completely exposed to him and the last option to escape him was to leap to her death.

It was the Butterfree who stepped up towards her. Gently, carefully, with a sad and pleading look in her eyes, she extended her hand towards her counterpart.

The other queen looked at it, then at the Butterfree, then at the hand again. Confliction arose out of her. It wasn't out of pride of having the mercy of an enemy. It was… regret.

The Beedrill faction had harassed her neighbor and had been responsible for pushing them to the brink of extinction. The Beedrill faction were the ones who started this raid.

But it was the victim, who now had absolute victory and could punish her assaulter for each transgression, who chose forgiveness over justice. There wasn't an ounce of vengeance within the Butterfree queen. There was only sorrow.

Chase frowned. He would have punished her. He would have beaten the Beedrill until her mind had broken. He would have driven enough fear into she and her followers to never try anything like this for several generations.

He meant it when he said he would tear off her wings.

But it wasn't his call. This wasn't his home. This land belonged to these bugs. It was their choice to settle this matter. So long as he was allowed to leave without having to murder a bunch of little girls, he was fine with the outcome. Salty, but fine.

For a moment, the Beedrill almost refused. Her face warped into one of stubbornness. She wouldn't let go of her hatred for the Trainers.

But after looking at the Butterfree's eyes once more, her face softened. He lowered her head with her brows furrowing. When she looked again, her eyes had softened to one of resignation.

Their hands almost met as the Beedrill reached in reply.

A shadow swept over them. Their heads snapped up towards the sky. Something was flying under the sun. A humanoid figure with a large pair of feathery wings.

The figure zipped through the hoard of battling Butterfree and Beedrill in the sky. It reached the lookout from several meters away in an instant. A mighty gust nearly blew them away if they didn't brace themselves.

A Moémon appeared. She had short brown hair with red bangs, a brown and red leathered aviator's uniform, and a large pair of brown feathered wings reaching as long as she was tall. She was at the approximate age of a mid-teenager.

Someone leapt off of her back with his feet landing squarely on the lookout floor.

Ted.

"Show's over, kid," Chase growled while never looking away from the Moémon. "You know, we could have used her sooner. You shouldn't have lied and said all of your Moémon were taken."

Ted straightened his clothes and offered the same fake smile as before. He ran a finger through his wind-torn hair, "Yeah, but then they'd be exhausted before reaching the queen. I couldn't pass up something like this."

"…Pass up what?" Chase snarled with narrowed eyes.

He nearly jumped when he heard the shriek of a banshee. He would have expected it to come from this bird-like Moémon.

He didn't expect it to come from the Beedrill queen. She screamed, her face turning crimson with outrage with her eyes blazing in fury. She ran forward with her hands extended.

She wasn't aiming for the Moémon. She was aiming for Ted. She was going to tear him apart with her bare hands.

"Fearrow, use QUICK ATTACK," Ted commanded while taking a few steps back in fright.

The Moémon, Fearrow, was a blur as she kicked off the ground. She rammed her shoulder onto the oncoming Beedrill, knocking her onto her back.

The Butterfree was there to help her up. But the Beedrill shoved her aside and tried again. Her eyes continued to blaze at Ted, ignoring all else including her injuries.

"PECK," Ted commanded next.

The Fearrow stepped up, coiled her arm while extending two fingers outward, and then jabbed them into the Beedrill's windpipe.

The queen went down, falling onto her knees with one hand gripping around her neck. She was gagging and gasping. She wasn't able to get back up.

"Sweet!" Ted said while digging around his pocket. "She's already this weak! I can catch her now!"

He pulled out from his hand a Moéball.

The queen's eyes widened with horror. She didn't try to attack him this time. Fear overwhelmed her. She stumbled back, crawling backwards on her limbs until her back hit the edge of the lookout's wall. Still she pressed herself against it as though she could move away further.

The Butterfree queen stepped in front of her and spread her hands out. She had a look of cold determination. She was going to protect her counterpart from the Trainer.

"Huh," Ted muttered while digging through his pockets again. "You're a lot healthier than I thought you'd be. Fearrow won't last long against your CONFUSION. I think I'll switch to my Charmeleon instead…"

He pulled out another Moéball from his pocket and casually flicked it at his feet. The capsule popped open with a flash of light shining within its container. A white silhouette appeared before solidifying and manifesting whole.

It was a teenage girl with bright red hair and a red and yellow dress. Her eyes were serpentine, her nails sharpened into claws, fangs sticking out of her lips in an overbite, and… there was a tail.

A reptilian tail with red scales extended out of the skirt of her dress. At the tip of the tail was a flame as bright as a torch.

The Beedrill let out a small squeak of fright. She cowered behind the Butterfree, crossing her arms over her head and clenching her eyes shut. Her entire body shook with fright.

Ted brought out another Moéball and pointed the button at the Fearrow. A red laser shot out of the capsule, enveloped Fearrow in red light, and in the next instant was the Fearrow gone and the laser retracted. He put the ball away afterwards.

"Alright, Charmeleon!" Ted clenched his fists with excitement. "Use EMB—"

Chase charged at the little shit and hoisted him off of his feet by his shirt. He rose him up until they were at eye level. "YOU! You're the reason why all of this is happening?!"

At first, Ted was taken completely by surprise. He blinked a few times before bringing his smile back up. "What are you talking about, mister? I'm only trying to help. Honest—"

Chase slammed him back down, knocking the wind out of him when his back hit the floor. The boy coughed and then groaned.

He put his knee against his chest and pulled out his knife. His teeth were grinding while Aura coursed through his veins. "Un-fucking-believable. You're the one who attacked the Beedrill queen. _You're_ the one she was after! You lied to get the Butterfree queen's protection! You were trying to capture them both—"

He let his anger get the best of him. He had dismissed the Charmeleon entirely.

She spun around, lashing at him with her tail. It felt less of a leather whip and more like a band of steel coil. It struck the side of his head, forcing him off of her owner. He was seeing stars.

He struggled to get back up, biting back the pain and spots in his eyes. His eyes were wide as he tried to regain his vision— trying to find in the sea of temporary blackness where the Charmeleon was going to attack him next.

She didn't come. She only assisted her Trainer back onto his feet.

"What gives?" Ted asked after a few coughs. "Who attacks another Trainer? And why are you so upset? I'm only doing what every Trainer is supposed to do; capture Moémon!"

"You stupid little piece of shit," Chase snarled. He kept talking to drag out time for his vision to clear up. "Do you have any idea what you've done?! Didn't your mother tell you not to poke a sleeping bear?"

"…What kind of Moémon is a Bear?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"For fuck's… You rattled a beehive. You attacked their _queen_. And by the looks of things, you lost and ran away. You started all of this. You're the reason why Trainers were attacked when crossing through."

"I didn't mean to," Ted responded sourly. "They're building a zoo in Fuchsia City. Koga is paying for rare and exotic Moémon. Things like shinies and legendaries! I was going to trade him one of the queens of Viridian Forest and send the money home. But, yeah, I lost. I had to battle a lot of Weedle and Kakuna to get to her. I didn't realize how many there were until my Moémon were exhausted. My Charmeleon only got to use one EMBER.

"But they wouldn't leave me alone!" he threw his hands around in protest. "They chased after me! They killed the rest of my team! All I have left are Fearrow and Charmeleon! All I could do was hide! And whenever I tried to leave or challenge the queen again, she was unfair! She didn't fight me fairly! She sent more than one Moémon at me! That's against the rules!"

His brow was twitching while his teeth were grinding. He didn't just leave a scar on the queen. He had admitted to have assaulted her territory and attack her subjects. How many Moémon did he kill just to reach her? No wonder she was so driven to hunt him down. She wanted blood for blood.

"So here you are," Chase concluded for him. "You waited until the queens were forced to fight each other. You waited until they were alone. You were going to capture at least one of them. Both if they were wounded enough."

"Yeah!" Ted cheered with an enthusiastic nod. "Hey, listen mister, I'll challenge you to a Moémon Battle. If I win, I get to capture them both. But if you win against my Fearrow, I'll let you capture whichever one you want. Thanks to you, my big sister can get that operation! I couldn't have done this without you after all!"

Both queens were watching him.

Chase was silent. His face fell into a blank expression.

"No, Ted, I think I'll just kill you instead," he said in a flat voice.

"…Eh?" Ted blinked. "O-Oh, uh… is that a joke? Because you can't refuse a Moémon Battle. And the League doesn't let Trainers fight each other. It's in the rules before taking the exams—"

Chase pulled out his knife and rushed at Ted.

Ted quickly realized it wasn't a joke. He stumbled back and let out a girlish scream.

Charmeleon intercepted, defending her Trainer. She stepped up, opened her mouth, and breathed a stream of fire.

The flames washed over Chase, consuming the upper half of his body.

But the flames were batted aside.

He burst out of the breath, a dense layer of Aura covering his face and refracting the colors of red and blue. His eyes were glowing in matching colors.

For this instance, he was manipulating the flames of the Charmeleon to roll off of his skin. He was unfazed by their heat. It might as well have been a warm summer breeze to him.

The Charmeleon's eyes widened in shock.

Chase let out a roar, letting his rage consume him. His powers answered.

Frost coated the knife in his hands.

It cut through her dress and flesh. It dug into her chest all the way to the hilt. He pushed further, driving her off her feet and pushing her back. He kept running forward, running past everyone else, until reaching the edge of the lookout.

He retched the knife out of Charmeleon as soon as he shoved her over the edge.

His mask dissolved with the Aura sinking back into his skin. Sweat glossed his body while his breathing was pressed. Adrenaline from rage and physical labor of channeling that much Aura left him shaking.

"Char… Charmeleon…" Ted whispered below his breath. He stared at the edge where his Moémon had been dropped. His eyes were wide with disbelief. The reality of it all hadn't reached him just yet.

And then he realized Chase was approaching him.

He screamed and fumbled back. He tried to get up, tried to run away, but fumbled back down. He didn't even have the coherent thought to bring out his other Moémon. He only had to get away from Chase. He was trying to scurry away towards the only exit of the lookout.

Chase reached him first. He grabbed him by his hair and dragged him towards the queens. The boy screamed and tried to fight him off.

"No Ted," he said in a deceptively calm voice. His blood was still boiling. "You're going to die. You dragged me into this mess. You dragged Trainers into this. And you dragged two friends against each other. Everyone who had nothing to do with this was caught up. It all depends on who is going to do it."

"No, please!" Ted cried with tears and snot falling down his face. "I don't want t-t-t-t-to diiiiiiieeeeeeeeee! Please! Please! Plleeeeeeaaaaaasssseeee! I'm sorry!"

For a moment, Chase reconsidered his options. Ted was only eleven. He was only a child. He didn't know how to weigh his options or consider the consequences. To him, these creatures were only animals. He was a poacher trying to get a rare creature for money. He said something about an operation for his sister.

…But then Chase remembered the five days and tossed any reconsideration out the window. The crawling through mud, rashes from foreign leaves rubbing against him, resting on solid wood, the diet of nuts and berries and roots, and then there's the attack on the first day. If anything, he was going to kill him anyways for the lack of indoor plumbing alone.

Oh. And Stewart was dead. There was that.

He looked at the queens. He was waiting on their reaction.

The Butterfree was looking down at Ted with heartbreak. Her eyes were reddening, threatening to break into tears. She had a look of utmost betrayal.

She looked away from him.

The Beedrill looked at Ted with absolute disgust and loathing. Her eyes continued to blaze with fury while her hands clenched. She wanted to tear into him now that his Charmeleon was gone.

She looked up at Chase. Her expression solid.

"Wait…" Ted gasped once Chase hefted him up. He tried to fight but Chase twisted his arm behind his back. "Argh! Wait! Please! Stop! Stop! Save me! Someone save me! Someone! PLEASE!"

Chase tossed him over the edge.

Ted let out a scream. A scream of hopelessness. They all watched as he tried to pull the Moéball out of his pocket, it getting stuck, and then popping free. It drifted in the air as he fell; he tried to catch it, but instead knocked it away further. The Fearrow who could save him was out of his reach.

And that was the end of Ted.

The only sound being made was Squeakers, who was inching her way across the floor to his side like a worm. The battle above the skies had ended— or had been interrupted by the Fearrow's initial arrival. The Butterfree and Beedrills were all watching the interaction between their queens.

The two queens looked down at the perpetrator of their quarrel. The Butterfree closing her eyes in silent prayer. The Beedrill raising her head in hollow satisfaction.

Chase pocketed his knife, picked up Squeakers by one sticky strand of silk, and began to walk towards the stairs.

0-0-0

"Eh, so it was Ted all along?!" said one of the Bug Catchers.

"Ted was the reason why they were fighting?!" said another.

"That jerk!" another.

"I hope something bad happens to him!"

"Yeah, I hope he gets really sick!"

"I hope they take away his license!"

"I seriously hope he dies!"

"Yeah!"

"Really?" Chase raised a brow as he looked at them. "Because that's what happened."

Their behaviors dropped like a rock.

"Ted… is dead?" one of them asked.

"Was it the Beedrill side?" another asked, almost afraid to do so but the bravest of the group.

"No," Chase answered plainly. "I did."

They all looked at him as though he were a monster. They wouldn't be wrong.

Chase fixed the strap on his backpack. Thanks to everything between the two clearing up, the Beedrill queen had permitted him to ransack her treasury. Everything the Trainers had brought into the forest that had been claimed by the Beedrill faction was his for the taking. Of course he couldn't take everything. So he decided on the essentials.

Camping gear, mostly. And money.

But not the underwear. For one, they were all titie-whities. For another, none of them would fit him no matter how much he stretched them out. Last, no matter how thoroughly washed they were, he would rather use his own underwear as it was now than someone else's.

"Well, you're free to go," Chase waved at them. "I hope you know where to go because I'm not escorting you. I'm going towards Pewter."

"Y-Yeah… that's alright," one of them said. "We all live in Viridian City. We know how to get through the forest. Besides… I miss my mom."

There was a chorus of agreement. Embarrassed agreement as though it were a sin to miss a mother, but an agreement amongst themselves.

"If anyone asks…" Chase began in a firm voice, "Tell them everything I told you about Ted. But tell them the Moémon dealt with him and everything was fine afterwards. Leave everything about me out of it."

"…Why should we?" one of them asked with a challenging look. "You're the one who killed Tim. I should report you to Officer Jenny."

Ah, the logic of a small child. None of them thought to question the legal system. They had a firm belief that all evil-doers will be punished by the police and be sent to jail. No ands, ifs, or buts about it.

"Because I know where you all live," Chase said in another plain voice. He reached for his inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a stack of identification cards. Theirs. "Tell anyone and I'll do to you what I did to Ted."

They all fell silent. Except for the one in the back. He broke out into tears.

"Stay out of trouble," Chase said, turned, and waved them off. "Come on, Squeakers. We have a lot of time to make up."

Squeakers grabbed the hem of his coat and followed along. They began to travel in the general direction of north through the winded and uneven road.

It was almost immediately after he was out of sight of the kids did he feel the presence of several Moémon. He stopped walking and put his hands into his pocket, ready to draw his knife.

Insect Moémon appeared from the trees and bushes. But none of them held the same amount of hostilities as before. News must have traveled fast and their loyalties unquestionable if only half a day was what they needed to not be at another's throats.

From the left side appeared the Butterfree queen. She descended down, gliding on her wings.

From the right came the Beedrill queen, walking gracefully despite being grounded. The leaves seemed to part out of her way as she appeared.

Both met with each other… and stood in front to block the road from him.

He groaned and scratched his head. "If you're here to stop me, I can't stay. I have something I need to take care of. I was just trying to pass through when I got caught up in your mess."

Both queens were avoiding eye contact with him. Their cheeks were reddening.

"You're welcome, I guess," he said while crossing his arms. "Everything is back to normal. You already repaid me and I'm fine with that. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to go. I wasted too much time here."

They both flinched as soon as he used the word 'wasted'. It was how he felt and wouldn't apologize to them for it. He needed to get this stupid quest over with and rejoin the war on his home planet.

The Beedrill clutched one of her lances. The Butterfree clenched a fist tight against her chest. Both of their faces were reddening further.

The Butterfree spoke first. She stepped away from her counterpart, fluttered her wings enough to hover, and began to twirl around. The tips of her toes tapping onto the ground with every beat as though kissing the surface of a lake.

The Beedrill flinched, jumping back. Her mouth fell agape.

The left side of the field was going crazy. It looked like a bunch of schoolgirls gushing over some new drama unveiling right in front of them. They were leaping up and down, spinning around while holding hands, and clapping their hands.

Chase… had no idea what it meant.

The Beedrill slammed her foot down once. Hard. The single clack of her heel forced the entire forest to shut up.

Her face was burning with her lips pressed into a tight line. The grip on her lance tightened to the point where her gloves were scrunching up.

She drew it quickly, making him pull out the knife in response and prepare for another fight. But she didn't engage. Instead, she rested it in both her hands, took a few steps forward with her eyes shut…

And then extend it towards him. She couldn't make eye contact with him.

The Butterfree queen gasped with her hands shooting over her mouth.

Meanwhile, the right side of the road was going into a frenzy. They all had linked arms together and performed the Cancan.

Chase pocketed the knife again and eyed the lance. It was a weapon. A weapon that had impaled the side of a truck without losing the point. The damn thing was durable enough to knock them off the road.

All he had was a six inch knife. The lance wasn't as discreet as he would have liked, but he could _definitely_ use it in this chaotically violent world.

"I'll take it only because you tried to kill me," he said and accepted the weapon. It was deceptively light for its size. He would need to make a special holster for either his back or hip like how the Beedrill had hers.

She had a very satisfied as she stepped back and to the side.

They were letting him go now.

He nodded at them and began to walk past them.

It wasn't until a few steps afterwards did he realize… they were following him.

"…What're you doing?" he looked over his shoulder with his scowl deepening.

They both looked at him blankly.

He took a few steps forward while keeping an eye on them. They took the same amount of steps after him.

"No, no, no," he spun back around and pointed at the Butterfree first and then the Beedrill. "You're too frisky and weird. You're too hotheaded and, oh, you _tried to kill me_. Don't you two have a monarchy to rule?!"

They exchanged a glance with each other. Their brows shot up as they both realized something.

They turned around… and danced together. The Butterfree twirled while the Beedrill clacked her heels against the road.

Their subjects responded with exuberance… and then vanished back into the trees without a trace.

The two of them turned back around and gave Chase a look of expectancy.

He let the lance rest under his arm so he could rub both his temples. "You've got to be kidding me. What? Because I stopped the two of you from killing each other do you think I'm some kind of hero? Look, I only did what I did so I could get out of here. I didn't do anything for your sakes."

The Beedrill was giving him a blunt look. The Butterfree was giving him a sympathetic look.

They weren't going to budge. Not unless he fought them and drove them away. He couldn't do that to them.

…He might, sort of, in a small part within him, _deep_ within him… like them.

The Beedrill might have tried to kill him, but she had done everything for the sake of protecting her subjects. She took the offensive personally to defend what was hers.

And the Butterfree had protected him without question. She opened up her home and her heart to him. She did what she believed was the right thing to do.

Both of them he could respect. He also hated them for the same reasons. They were emotional wrecks.

"If you're sticking with me…" he growled and looked at them both. "I'm naming you Wasabi."

The Beedrill blinked.

"And you, Soy Sauce."

The Butterfree tilted her head.

"Wasabi, because you're spicy as fuck. Too spicy. Like not even enjoyable. Instead of flavor, you just give me a chemical burn. I feel like I'm in for a world of hurt as soon as I let my guard down around you.

"Soy Sauce, because you're secretly salty. Don't deny it. You smile and act all nice, but at the end of it all you ignored everything I said and did your own thing. Like right now. I can't drink you straight or it's going to give me stomach problems.

"And you both together just sound like a serious problem about to happen," he finished while giving them both a leveled glare. "If you want to come with me, I'm going to be calling you those names for the rest of the time you stay with me. Remember that."

…His naming _might_ have something to do with his empty stomach and the fact the Trainers had been trying to cook Squeakers for the past five days. He had the most uncomfortable hunger for sushi right now.

Both queens looked at each other.

Wasabi tapped her toe three times.

Soy Sauce curtseyed.

…Fucking hell.

"I guess… that's that then," he said, gave up, and turned back around to hike up the road.

He could feel the warmth of their smiles on his back like twin suns. He also chose to ignore the sound of clapping that could only belong to a low-five.

Perhaps, it wasn't such a bad idea to let them tag along. If they were going to follow him on his journey then maybe he could convince him to participate in Gym Battles. They might not be on par with Lance's level, but they were things to be wary of.

He doubted it. Perhaps Soy Sauce would comply. But he doubted Wasabi would be so willing. He doubted she was going to accept Trainers after a single incident. The last Trainer who tried had left her permanently scarred.

He wasn't exactly their Trainer.

Chapter Two of The Idiot's Guide: _To Catch Them is the Real Test; To Train Them is the Cause!_

He didn't use a Moéball to catch them. They were… strays _at best._ Like Squeakers.

"I don't suppose you know a shortcut to Pewter City," he said over his shoulder. "I really don't want to spend a few days on this road."

Of course they knew. This was their home. They knew it better than the back of their hands.

They each took him by his arm, pressing their bodies against him, and nearly dragged him through the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** I did not create Moemon. A quick Google search will answer your questions. In fact, I highly recommend it. The Pokémon games are hilarious this way.

On another note, sorry it took some time to come out with this chapter. Was working on other projects and I got stuck trying to figure out what crazy arc I was going to do in Pewter City. I considered having something to do with the fossil museum but I couldn't think of anything else. I also considered following the anime and including Brock's ridiculously huge family and his father. But... meh.

I figured something out in the end. Hope you enjoy!

Now on with the show!

* * *

He coughed. The gargling of his own blood nearly made him choke. He coughed again until he could create a pocket of air.

Coughing hurt horrendously. One of his ribs were broken and it was poking into his lung.

There was also the nasty wound festering on his shoulder. The bite from that Zubat combined with the toxic sludge from that Grimer. The venom from the Zubat he could naturally diminish with some Aura application and some influence from the Shadow. But the Grimer sludge?

He may as well have put raw sewage onto the wound. It was practically the same thing.

He didn't know how long he had been down here, bleeding out and broken at the bottom of the mountain. The fall should have knocked him unconscious. It hadn't killed him only because of all the bouncing he did against dead trees and protruding rocks.

It was dark and it was cold. He was losing blood too.

He couldn't pass out because the Shadow wouldn't let him.

A fever was consuming him. His body was burning from within while he shivered uncontrollably. The infection wrought by the Grimer fluid had reached into his system. His body was trying to fight against it. His mind was trying to turn off so he could rest and better fight it.

Again, the Shadow wouldn't let him.

It was watching him suffer. It sat against one of the stones with its legs crossed and hands cupped neatly over its knee. Its eyes were examining Chase's grunting and twitching the same way someone saw a car accident. Dazzling, dangerous, curious… but unwilling to offer any help.

He wouldn't be in this mess if he didn't give Soy Sauce his Researcher coat. It was cold in Mt. Moon. Freakishly cold. Wasabi was trying to act tough but Soy Sauce was shivering. So of course he took pity on her, some of it to spite Wasabi's bitchiness, and gave her his coat.

And then some lunatic came out of nowhere and tried to catch them.

Something about a Helix… Hail the Helix.

He couldn't remember. He couldn't focus. He was losing his mind.

0-0-0

 _ **A few days prior…**_

The sun was beginning to set by the time they reached the exit to Viridian Forest. There was a shack just like the one on the other end but the door was locked and the lights were off. Chase couldn't detect any life within.

He had no problems kicking in the door. It was the only way he was going to get out of this place besides trying to go over the barbwire fence.

It was a small office in exact likeness to the forest ranger's— warden, Stewart called the officer a warden for whatever reason— with a desk, a map of the forest, and a few notices, warnings, and safety regulations for anyone passing through.

Just because he was pissed off to high hell, he raided the minifridge in the back. There was nothing but dark cola (labeled SODA in bold lettering) and lemonade (also labeled in bold lettering).

"Nope," he said once he saw Squeakers try to drink from the soda. "I'm not giving you that. You're going to be bouncing off the walls on the caffeine alone. Never mind the sugar. Here, you can have this."

He handed her the lemonade. She gave him a pout.

"…I guess you can have some of these then," he said, picking up the bowl of candy from the back desk. They were the cheap wrapped up sort like assorted taffy. He didn't recognize the label other than it held a bright 'R' in explosive font.

Squeakers took one and began to struggle with the wrapping.

"You girls want anything?" he asked to the other two who _dragged_ him through the forest.

It wasn't an exaggeration. They turned it into a race on who could lead him through the forest better. He lost his footing several times and they wouldn't stop to let him get back up.

Soy Sauce the Butterfree and Wasabi the Beedrill stood in the main office, waiting for him to finish his pillaging.

"No? Whatever then," he said while putting the bowl back on the desk and then pocketing a few of the candies for himself. He unwrapped one of them, handed it to Squeakers, and then took the one she was wrestling with to open (literally, using Splash to weaken it).

He thought about flipping the desk over or toppling the file cabinet. But he wasn't six. There wasn't a need to be that excessive. The wardens who worked here probably had a regular nine to five job and had closed up for the night.

But it was necessary for him to break open the front door. Sure, he could have unlocked it now that he was on this side but it was necessary for his health to kick something.

In retrospect, it would have been less damaging to flip over the desk instead. The desk may have been a little damage and the tiles a little chipped, but far cheaper to mend than replacing whole door as well as refurbishing the frame and locks.

Finally, he was out of that goddamn forest. The road was clear with the mountains surrounding the terrain. Further down the hill could he see the small city that was Pewter. It was much smaller than Viridian with no multileveled buildings aside from homes and few commercial buildings.

He was just glad to be able to see the sky again. Chase adjusted the straps on his backpack and started to trek forward.

Just then, a car horn blared in the theme of La Cucaracha.

Everyone scattered as a pink Cadillac convertible ran straight through the wire fence gate and nearly ran them over.

"What up, bitches?!" said the driver as he slammed on the brakes and skidded the car to park sideways. The four Moémon sitting in the back seat or off of the trunk weren't fazed in the slightest. They all had expressions as if they had been used to this.

Chase raised himself off the floor. He recognized that voice. It belonged to someone from his world.

"Four?!" Chase blinked. "What the… What the fuck are you doing here fat ass?!"

The driver was someone just a year older than him. The war hadn't changed him in the slightest. He was still as grotesquely fat as he was absurdly tall. And he had a smile that was too impossibly wide and full of too many sharpened and bloodstained teeth to be human.

He had a pair of red and black marbled eyes hidden behind sunglasses with lenses made from living shadows.

He was the former Fourth Researcher.

"Well fuck me sideways!" he cackled and turned off the car. "Chase, is that you? The fuck are you doing here in my hallucination?"

Chase approached the car but didn't dare to get too close. He stayed a few steps away. The former Fourth was still one of the most dangerous beings on his planet with an unpredictable mind.

"That's what I want to know!" Chase spread his hands out. "Some douchebag named Lance ripped me from our world and is making me play his dumbass game. Did he drag you through too?"

"Lance?" the Fourth cackled again, giggling more so, while craning his head back and neck bobbing around. "You mean the Pokemon League Champion, Lance? That guy?"

"Moémon," Chase corrected.

"Bah!" the other waved a hand and spat out of the side of the car. "Same difference! Nah man, I ain't here cuz of that. See, me and my roomy were hitting up some 'shrooms. And boy were those suckers strong… Next thing I know, I'm up the wall with Pokemon!"

He reached for a Ziploc bag of mushrooms, pulled one out, and popped it into his mouth.

"Want some?" he offered, jiggling the bag with two fingers.

"No thank you," Chase said while watching the man carefully.

"Good! Cuz these suckers were expensive as fuck!" he snarled, snatched the bag away, and tossed them back into the glove compartment. "But, hey, since you're playing the game and all… I CHALLENGE YOU TO A POKEMON BATTLE!"

Immediately, Chase's Moémon came to his flank. Wasabi pulled out her remaining lance, Soy Sauce put up her hands, and Squeakers…

Squeakers was trying to catch invisible fireflies. Her eyes were extremely dilated to where the pupils consumed most of the iris.

…No more candy for Squeakers.

"Wait, hold on…" the fat one said as he pulled out his phone and began to fiddle around with it. "We gotta do this right. I can hear it all in my head and I'm sure you can too. But we gotta do this right, dammit all!"

When he got out of his car and circled around, he placed the phone on the hood. It began to play electronic fanfare found in classic videogames. Chase recognized it as the typical music in RPGs when a boss encounter happened.

"How about no?" Chase said instead.

"The fuck you just say to me?" the Fourth gave him a blunt look.

"No," Chase said firmly. "Dude, I'm tired. I want to get to Pewter. Half of us are injured and need to go to the MoéCenter. Above all else, I need a shower! We can do this later."

"Dammit all Chase," the fat one pinched the bridge of his nose. "If this was real you'd have to beat me to progress forward. You're lucky this is outside the scripted sequence. But next time, we'z totally PvPing. Ya got that?!"

The Fourth muttered something dark under his breath while swiping for his phone, hopped back into his car, and revved up the engine.

"Wait! Hold on!" Chase rushed forward.

The fat ass floored it. The back tires splashed mud and grass everywhere before finding traction and driving away. A cloud of dust and dirt followed.

"GIVE ME A RIDE YOU FAT FUCK!" Chase screamed as the vehicle was too far away for his voice to be heard.

He could only stare at the traveling cloud of dust. There was a numbness to him. He felt too exhausted to conjure his mask and fire a missile at the mountain of lard.

He felt more exhausted after coming to the acceptance he will have to hike the rest of the way to Pewter.

"Let's… let's get started," he said. His feet may or may not have dragged along the ground with each step. He may or may not have kicked the nearest pebble with all his might like a small child throwing a tantrum.

His Moémon listened and trekked with him, albeit a few paces back as they sensed his bad mood. He knew Soy Sauce and Wasabi were having some sort of silent conversation amongst themselves. And Squeakers… Squeakers was rolling around in the ground. Yet, she rolled around him like a moon revolving around its planet. She was able to maintain the same radius despite the speed of his walk.

Suddenly, he stopped walking. The realization of the former Fourth Researcher being present in this world smacked him worse than anything so far in his journey.

If Lance thought Chase was chaotic…

The fucking Champion _better not_ blame the next wave of cannibalism, murder, rape, vandalism, and profanity (in that exact order per victim as was the custom to the fat ass) on Chase.

0-0-0

Pewter City was less of a city and more of a town. It reminded Chase of those old and out of the way towns in the countryside. Instead of being surrounded by wide open lands of farming was it shoved into the corner at the footsteps of a mountain valley.

The buildings had an old architecture compared to Pallet Town and especially the metropolitan Viridian City. Rather than being spaced out, the buildings were all crammed together in order to make as much use to the limited space of the crevice from the mountains. Yet, there weren't enough buildings and population for the city to be considered smothering.

As far as Chase could tell, the city didn't offer much in terms of scenery. There was a dried-up river at the center of the town with a single waterwheel station further down the hill. Other than that, all he could see were the mountains towering over the city.

"Fucking finally," he groaned after passing by a few residencies at the border of Pewter City. His feet ached and he needed that shower more than ever. Not just to get the grime off of him, but to give him some sort of spiritual relief. Unfortunately, the shower wasn't the only thing he needed at the moment.

"Alright, first thing's first," he said while turning at the Moémon who had followed him for God-knows-why. "We need to find the MoéCenter and get ourselves checked out. After that, we either grab food or bathe. Think about what you want to do first."

The bug girls each had their own reactions. Soy Sauce clapped her hands together and spun around with excitement. Wasabi lifted her chin a little higher as though she had just done something worthy of praise.

Squeakers kept trying to steal more candy from him. He had to smack her hand aside every now and then.

Fortunately, the MoéCenter wasn't too far away from the main entrance of the city. There was really only one road with the occasional side street made out of dirt instead of the cobblestone. Finding the MoéCenter was easy, especially when it was one of the largest buildings in the city and the only one with a bright red rooftop.

It was considerably smaller than the one in Viridian, which was to be expected considering the lack of population in Pewter. Yet it was built to withstand the traveling Trainer stopping by to challenge the local Gym Leader.

"Joy?" Chase blinked as he and the girls approached the front desk.

The woman standing at the front was the same pink-haired woman in the white nurse's gown more commonly found during World War II. She had been the _only_ practitioner in Moémon medical treatment in all of Viridian with a few other pink-haired Moémon as assistants.

"Hello! Welcome!" she greeted with some startled surprise. She had been lightly reading behind her desk until she heard the electric doors open. "I haven't seen you around here. Did you come through Mt. Moon?"

He considered her question and the implications behind it for a moment. "No… I came through Viridian Forest."

"What? Really?" she stood up immediately with astonishment. "But… Officer Jenny told me just the other day they had closed all routes going in and out of the forest. How did you get by?"

So the warden office wasn't just closed due to the hours. It was closed because of an official request by the local authorities. Well… great. He should have kept his mouth shut. Now that Nurse Joy knew he had passed through the forest, they would have a _very_ likely suspect as to why the office was vandalized.

"I guess they closed the gates _after_ we entered," he grumbled. "What about you? Were you right behind us before they sealed off all exits? How did you get to Pewter?"

Nurse Joy looked at him with slight confusion, "I've… always been stationed in Pewter City. I'm not sure what you mean by that."

His brows furrowed, "I'm sure you get a lot of patients everyday back in Viridian. You probably won't remember me. Last I talked to you, you were working in Viridian's MoéCenter."

She was still confused by his words. He saw her eyes flash with insight as she came to some sort of revelation.

"Oh!" she chirped. "Usually it's the new Trainers who tell me this. I didn't expect someone so experienced to not be in the know. That was actually one of my sisters."

His brows shot up. "Twins?"

"Octuplets, actually," she answered with a smile. She reached for a picture frame behind her desk and handed it to him. "This was taken at our family reunion last spring. I also have several other cousins in just about every region in the League."

He and the girls huddled together to get a look at the picture. He felt his brow twitch just from looking at the image. Bearing in front of him were _eight_ exact copies of Nurse Joys, sitting in two aisles of four, and wearing the exact same nurse uniform.

"So then what's your name?" he asked while handing back the picture. The Moémon behind him took steps back to their original position.

"You can call me Nurse Joy," she answered sweetly.

There was a moment of silence as he stared at her with a flat expression.

"No, seriously," he muttered. He didn't do well with jokes. Sarcasm was one thing but it was always to mock reality versus making light of it and raising other's spirits.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," she said. "I come from the Joy Family. It's really my name."

That made better sense. If Joy was her surname then it would explain why Pewter's Joy and Viridian's Joy were named the exact same. Plus, when addressing anyone with a title, it often followed the use of the surname rather than the given name. And if she didn't want to tell him her actual name, then oh well. It wasn't his business anyways. Nor was he willing to get close to her.

"I see," he said. At the least, indirectly, he had managed to steer the conversation away from the topic of Viridian Forest. "One of my Moémon is in need of extensive care. Her wings are damaged and she's a little bruised. Is it possible to patch her up?"

"Yes!" excitement and worry crossed her. She was modest enough to hold it back to a professional level. This was probably the most exciting thing she had to do for a long time. "Absolutely. If you can please place her inside her Moéball I will be able to treat her."

Wasabi took several hurried steps away from him.

He craned his head to look at her through his peripheral. Wasabi had one hand on her remaining lance while the other clutched at the center of her blouse… right where the burn scar lay hidden underneath.

"…Is the Moéball necessary?" he asked, turning back to Nurse Joy.

She had noticed Wasabi's state. Questions shone in her eyes but she wouldn't press. "Unfortunately, the machine we use requires the Moémon to be within their Moéball for a full recovery. I'm afraid the Chansey I have doesn't know SOFTBOILED. I ordered the TM a while back but it's taking an awful long time for the shipment."

Softboiled? Immediately, his mind flashed to the memory of Lance's Chansey cracking an egg on his head and letting the gunk seep into his skin. That must have been the healing move she was talking about.

"Is there anything you can do?" he asked next.

"I can offer a personal medical examination," she said. "I can't guarantee to be able to fix her wings without surgery— we simply don't have the equipment for such a procedure. I can only do basic patchwork and prescribe medication. However, that isn't covered by the League. You will have to pay for that. It's recommended to use the machine we have, which is free of charge and guaranteed to fully recover your entire team."

She said that last part while looking at Wasabi and Squeakers. Squeakers especially.

Squeakers had finally come down from the candy. He shouldn't have given human candy to a Moémon. He didn't bother to think of the potential consequences. Moémon were simply too close to human; he still wasn't sure whether they had a completely different internal anatomy within.

Squeakers was hunched over with a hand covering her brow. Like a mad drunk who was having the worst hangover in existence.

She'll live. He doubted she'll learn her lesson though.

"…Is that a Magikarp?" Nurse Joy asked after a moment of staring.

Oh. She wasn't staring because of Squeakers' Blue Monday syndrome. He completely forgot that she was, literally, a fish out of water.

He wasn't going to comment on that.

He looked over to Wasabi. In the end, it was going to be her call.

He could understand her entire plight. She had her arms crossed around her waist, holding herself tight. Their eyes met for an instant until she broke away from his gaze. She was terrified— borderline frantic over the prospect of being captured and bound inside a Moéball. She couldn't maintain her imperial fortitude in this instance.

"How much would the examination cost?" he asked Nurse Joy.

Nurse Joy frowned slightly. She cupped a hand onto her cheek while calculating to herself quietly. "You're looking at around… five thousand zen."

He tried his hardest to not jerk. Fucking Christ was that a lot of money. A Moéball cost two hundred zen. He had managed to grab as much money as he could from the Beedrill treasury, but that was already most of what he had acquired.

"…Fine," he said with a bit of effort. He couldn't hold back scratching the ridge of his brow though. "Give her what she needs. I'll pay for it."

"Are you sure?" Nurse Joy asked with uncertainty.

"I'm don't think it's a good idea at the moment," he answered with a shrug. But before he could start to get soft on the girl, he looked over his shoulder and gave Wasabi his meanest glare. "Personally, I think she should learn from her mistakes and let it naturally heal. But I need her in top condition if she's going to keep following me."

Wasabi didn't react to his provocation. Instead, she was watching him closely.

Did she understand the value of the dollar— of the zen? Probably not. She was a Moémon. She lived in a goddamn tree. Her method of currency were shiny rocks and roots— which was valuable for itself— but it didn't carry the same amount of conceptual worth as a paper bill.

"Very well," Nurse Joy said with a slight smile. "I'll prepare everything. In the meantime, can I have your Trainer ID?"

Oh. Right. That thing. While any regular hospital back in his world would treat any patient that stumbled in half-dead, one of the first things they checked was whether they had insurance. Here was no different, it seemed. It didn't matter if he was able to pay in cash. There was a possibility Nurse Joy would give him the bare minimum as was required by her oath if she found out he wasn't a Trainer.

Fortunately, Lance delivered him one such identification card back in Viridian.

…He almost pulled out the stack of confiscated IDs of those kids back in the forest. That was one story he didn't want to have to explain to her.

"Here," he said after rummaging through his pockets.

She took it with a smile and glanced at it. It was more of a club identification card with just a snapshot of his profile and name than a piece of legal information. There was a magnetic bar on the back for swiping through computer systems, however. He thought nothing of the cheap piece of plastic.

But Nurse Joy glanced at it again. Her eyes shot wide.

"…Something wrong?" he was almost hesitant to ask.

So help him if Lance gave him a fake ID just to make his life that much harder…

"N-No," Nurse Joy said, a little frazzled. "Absolutely nothing. T-Thank you, Mister Rolan. Is there anything else I can get for you this evening?"

She handed him back the card. That raised more alarms in his head. If it was fake, she would have kept it and made some excuse for doing so. Either that or… she gave it back to him to dissuade him. He would lower his guard while she called the cops.

Son of a bitch. He better not have to make her treat Wasabi through gunpoint… or knife-point in this case. And it wasn't like he could hold her hostage forever. He had to challenge the Gym Leader! _Maybe_ , and this was stretching it, if he tied her up, challenged the Gym Leader, miraculously won, and booked it from town within the next twelve hours then he _might_ be in the clear.

Or he could murder her. No. That was a bad idea. There had to be security cameras in this place and people had seen him walk towards the MoéCenter. A suddenly missing Nurse Joy would have him as the prime suspect with a warrant for arrest.

He had to think of a contingency plan. And fast.

"If you will come with me then," Nurse Joy said after punching a few things onto her computer. She stood and walked around her desk, gesturing for him to follow her into the hall. "I will see what I can do for your Beedrill."

"…Me?" he blinked at that. "But… I'm a guy."

Nurse Joy looked at him with another perplexed expression. "Is something the matter, Mr. Rolan? You are her Trainer, aren't you?"

"Aren't you… supposed to examine her in, I don't know, _private_ ," he questioned with his thumb sticking over his shoulder at Wasabi. He also avoided her question.

"Mr. Rolan," Nurse Joy had a playful smile on her lips, "are you perhaps squeamish?"

He froze. Him? Squeamish? Not even a full minute ago he contemplated murdering and burying her into five different sections across town.

Nurse Joy came to her own conclusion, "Then I'll take care of your Beedrill in your stead. If you can have her come with me, please."

Whatever. It worked out in the end.

"Go on," he said over his shoulder while nudging his head. "We'll wait right here for you."

"It won't take very long," Nurse Joy assured. "You're welcome to wait in the lobby."

Wasabi looked between Chase and Nurse Joy. She glowered at Chase for a moment. Her eyes were beaming a message at him. She didn't want to go alone.

His eyes fell flat. He wasn't going to budge on this matter. She would either go in with Nurse Joy and get treatment or suffer the constant pain of having a crumbled right wing.

She complied in the end. She followed Nurse Joy into the hallway and into one of the examination rooms.

Finally, Chase let himself relax. He let out a weary groan as soon as he landed on one of the plastic chairs. It was hard… but it beat sitting on a tree stump by a long shot. His legs were sobbing rivers of tears for having finally a break from trekking uneven terrain. The forest was murder on his legs and feet.

Soy Sauce joined him, taking the seat at his side after smoothing out her skirt under her. She was giving him a lovely gratuitous smile.

Squeakers didn't have the strength to climb up onto one of the chairs. She chose to flop right onto the tips of his boots and remain there.

He didn't say anything to the girls. He really didn't want to. It's not like they were good for conversation anyways. He had just walked for most of the day listening to the sounds of Squeakers' squeaking. Whatever he said was replied with either snapping or clacking. Or jazz hands.

While he waited for Wasabi, he pulled out the Idiot's Guide. The thing was only a few days old and it was already seen some serious wear. He had to fold the book in half to fit into one of his pockets and it had been through the same abuse as his Researcher coat. But so long as he could open the book, he was content with the lack of resale value.

 _Chapter Three: Traveling Across the Land, Searching Far and Wide_

0-0-0

The MoéCenter was quiet. He was the only person currently using it, anyways. No wonder Nurse Joy was bored out of her mind. But, to Chase, it was a different sort of quietness compared to the spacious vacancy found in his travels. Here, he found the electric buzzing of the lights overhead as a comfort over the rustling of leaves and crunching of boots over twigs and gravel.

He was almost done with the chapter when the peace was interrupted. One of the phones rang. It wasn't the phone behind Nurse Joy's desk. It was one of the payphones Trainers could use across the lobby. It buzzed with an electronic ring with the light blinking red and green.

Call it intuition but… he was pretty fucking sure the call was for him.

"I'm not answering that," he muttered and went back to his book.

While trying to ignore the ringing that was purposely getting louder as time dragged on, he reviewed what the book had to offer. The first chapter was mainly an introduction to Moémon, defining what they were as a species and how they interact in the modern world. Generally, Moémon were treated as wild animals that could either be domesticated as pets or trained as hunting parties.

Hunting parties. That's exactly what they were, though the book called them Moémon _partners_. They were ordered by a Trainer to harass other wild Moémon, to be poached, and enslaved in order to poach other wild Moémon. Or, in the worse case, they were treated as pit fighters against another Trainer's Moémon.

And no, he didn't want to be the very best like no one ever was.

The phone kept ringing.

The second chapter went on about exactly how a Trainer was to capture a Moémon. It mentioned weakening the wild Moémon with their partner and then capturing it with a Moéball. For some odd reason, Moémon who were beaten so badly they were knocked unconscious couldn't be caught by a Moéball. The book didn't explain why.

It also didn't explain how a Trainer was supposed to catch their first Moémon. Unless the League handed out every new Trainer's starter Moémon like how he was supposed to back in Pallet Town. Then raised the question on how a member of the League got _that_ Moémon in the first place. _Someone_ had to start the cycle.

Need work for experience. Need experience for work. It felt like one of those scenarios.

The phone kept ringing. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard at this point. And yet, Soy Sauce and Squeakers looked like they didn't hear a thing. Plus, he was sure Nurse Joy would have been able to hear it and come check on things. It reinforced the thought the call was just for him.

He kept ignoring it.

The third chapter shared how the Trainer was supposed to leave home to go on some shit-tastic pilgrimage. While the legal age was still eighteen under normal conditions, a Trainer can be recognized as a legal adult at the age of _ten._ Provided they pass the Moémon League examinations and/or were given eligibility from a respected member of the League. IE, a Gym Leader, a Professor (capital P, _apparently_ ), or one of the Elite Four.

He supposed he fell into the latter category. The fucking Champion was his sponsor, so to speak.

The chapter went on, explaining how the Trainer was supposed to going across the country and challenging all eight Gyms in every major city. Only then would they be allowed access into Victory Road, which would lead to the Moémon League headquarters where the Trainer could challenge the Elite Four for some unspecified reason. To challenge the Champion, he supposed.

The purpose was to travel to different territories where different migrations of Moémon made homes for themselves. The point of this pilgrimage was to create a diverse team as well as attempting to capture the region's whopping _151_ unique Moémon.

Which led to Chapter Four: _Each Moémon to Understand the Power that's Inside._

This particular chapter covered the different types of Moémon, their weaknesses and advantages, and a general overview of their move sets.

But he couldn't read it. The phone was starting to ring _inside his head_.

"WHAT?!" he bellowed as he crossed the distance and picked up the receiver.

The screen at the head of the payphone lit up. He had thought it was some sort of touch screen for dialing the numbers or searching the internet.

He didn't expect to see Lance's mug on the other side.

 _"Good evening, Mr. Rolan_ ," the Champion greeted with a grim smile but a twinkle in his eyes. The fucker had enjoyed pissing him off. _"I just received news you arrived in Pewter City."_

Chase lowered the receiver while rubbing a hand across his face. He really wasn't in the mood to be talking to the Champion. He had hoped to not see the guy for another city or two. He had been behaving! He didn't kill Nurse Joy after all!

"What do you want, Lance?" he growled.

 _"Call me concerned about an early investment,"_ the man said in a firm voice. _"I knew it would take some time for you to reach Pewter City but not this long. I highly doubt someone with your amount of skills could have gotten lost in Viridian Forest."_

"What makes you think I haven't been here all along?" Chase challenged.

 _"The identification card I delivered went through the servers,"_ Lance supplied. _"You never checked into the MoéCenter nor did you pass through Brock's Gym. So either you got lost in the forest or have been squatting for some time. You left me with the impression of someone who is unwilling to waste time. So which is it?"_

Chase mulled over his words. Lance was keeping track of him through the shit he gave him. It meant if he ever wanted to drop off the face of the planet he would need to ditch the card and the Moédex. It would be the same as never using the phone or credit card in his world.

Or Lance was still fucking with him. The Champion was on his ass as soon as he shot that Arbok. All that happened before he had received any of these things. It meant Lance could still watch him from afar through alternative means.

But was the man truly omniscient? There might be some reason why Chase couldn't use his powers aside from some godlike bullshit. Maybe a drug? And maybe Lance had been able to keep track of him because of the amount of needed security in Viridian. Maybe out here in the boonies was he blind?

But then raised the question on how Lance sucked him into this planet in the first place. It made most of the mental argument moot. He had no choice but to assume Lance held all the cards no matter what.

"Did you know what was going on in Viridian Forest?" Chase asked instead. "You must have heard something. They shut down the roads while I was locked in there."

 _"It may have been brought to my attention recently,"_ Lance admitted. _"We haven't received any word from the agent we sent in and had to assume the worst. This was reinforced by the traffic surveillance of Trainers going in but never coming out._

 _"However,"_ he smiled this time, _"it would seem the matter has been settled. Officer Jenny has filed for a wanted criminal suspected of murdering his fellow Trainer as well as threatening the lives of several others. The suspect is dark skinned, below average in height, in his late teens, and has a nasty temper."_

"…I'm going to murder those kids," he said without fear of the one he was saying that to.

 _"The report will be misfiled and the accusations left baseless,"_ Lance waved a hand. _"This is the second time I will be interfering like this, Mr. Rolan. You get one more before I wash my hands completely."_

"Shouldn't you be telling me not to do it again?" Chase asked with a raised brow.

 _"I've come to realize I must be patient. I cannot believe you will be able to adapt to our world immediately. But I will extend only so much tolerance. For instance, I will see it an improvement compared to the last time we have met. You were able to bring sons home to their mothers."_

Chase shrugged off the comment. Instead, he contemplated how he was going to use Lance's last strike. He would have to up his game so no one would catch him in the act any further. He would only have to use Lance's freebee if, and only if, he royally fucked up.

"You're not even going to ask what happened?" Chase growled with some of his anger rising. "A lot of people died, Lance. People who had nothing to do with it. And all because of your stupid rules."

 _"I have received a detailed report on the incident, Mr. Rolan,"_ Lance said, raising a manila envelope up for the camera. _"I'm fully aware of the feud between the forest queens. The Moéball containing a registered Fearrow was found near the foot of the Beedrill hive. The body of its owner was found not too far away. The time of death given to me by the coroner is coincidental with the returning of the Trainers and peace between both bug-type Moémon._

 _"Am I to assume Ted of Saffron was the culprit?"_

"…He tried to capture the Beedrill queen," Chase shared. "Burned her pretty badly with his Charmeleon. He couldn't catch her so he ran. The Butterfree queen gave him refuge but the Beedrill queen wanted his blood. That's what started this whole mess."

 _"…I see,"_ Lance said with a nod. _"Thank you for sharing this, Mr. Rolan. This confirms everything I need to know in this investigation."_

"It's hardly been a day," Chase said with his brows furrowing. "How the hell were you able to learn this much so quickly? Those kids had to have taken half a day to get out of the forest, another couple of hours sorting things out with the police, and then there's the time for your reaction. Not to mention I _just_ got to town less than an hour ago."

 _"Do not underestimate the resources of the Moémon League, Mr. Rolan,"_ Lance said with a proud smile.

That's all he said in reply.

"Fuck off," Chase growled. "Maybe if you did your job in the first place none of those kids would have been like that. Fucking Ted was squatting in that forest for three months. Where the fuck were you during that time?"

 _"We were made aware of the dispute within the forest but did not know of the severity,"_ Lance supplied in a cool voice. _"We had warned Trainers when traveling through the forest of the sudden rising of Moémon aggression. However, it was only until recently did Trainers cease to exit. But we noticed the regular civilian passed through unharmed. Once we found the pattern, we sent in a Non-Trainer to survey the area before sending a team blindly."_

…Well, fuck. Now that part was Chase's fault. He didn't realize he wasn't supposed to go with Stewart. The Moémon researcher was given this job because he wasn't a Trainer. And it was as soon as Chase said he had Moémon in the forest did the Beedrill faction attack.

Stewart would still be alive if not for Chase.

Since Stewart was taking too long, the League had to assume the worst. The authorities would have to lock down the forest until a team could be formed and sieged the place. They would need experts who could navigate through the rough terrain as well as Moémon who could match an entire army of bugs. Both of those would need time to assemble.

Or Lance could just send his Dragonite and raze the forest with its Hyper Beam.

"Yeah, well, fortunately for you, everything just so happened to work out in the end," Chase snapped back. "It would have been nice if you told me all of this back in Viridian. You know, _while_ telling me I should go through the forest the next day."

 _"It must have slipped my mind,"_ Lance bowed his head in an apologetic gesture but lacked any of the sympathy.

Chase had enough and hung up. He half expected the screen would still be lit up and the connection still active. However, the screen went blank instead. Lance was allowing him to go now that everything he needed was covered.

The fucker sent Chase into the forest knowing somehow in some way he was going to have to fix the problem. And, look, that's exactly what happened!

Soy Sauce was looking at him with a concerned expression. Her hands were resting on her lap while she was watching him. Squeakers, on the other hand, was hanging upside-down on one of the chairs while kicking her feet against the back. Every time, her heels would squeak upon impact.

"Don't ask," he said to Soy Sauce.

She looked like she wanted to say something (as if she could speak in the first place) but chose to let the subject drop.

He didn't join her. He wasn't in the mood to sit back down and read the book. Lance had riled him up and he needed to exert some of this energy. He chose to pace around the lobby.

It didn't take long for Nurse Joy and Wasabi to come back out into the lobby. Joy had a smile that matched her name while Wasabi… looked as bitter as her name.

"Thank you for waiting," Nurse Joy said after she returned to behind her desk. "I used a couple of Potions to help her recover. There were a couple of bruises. Now… those are the light injuries.

"I'm afraid there's very little I can do for her wing," her smile dropped into a slight frown of apology. "I've done all I can with what I have. I've given her some sedatives to alleviate the pain. If she refuses to enter a Moéball for me to properly treat her then she will need surgery at one of the larger cities. The closest being Cerulean past Mt. Moon. However, with the amount of time it will take for you to travel from here to there, I can't guarantee the surgery will be successful."

Chase crossed his arms and thought for a moment. He glanced over to Wasabi, who was paying attention to the conversation with a grimace. His eyes flickered over to the wing that now resembled a child's papier-mâché model instead of something chewed and spat out. Hmm. No, it was more like an old sponge that had expanded after getting a little wet but was still flaky in other areas.

"The only way to fully recover her is to put her inside a Moéball?" he asked. He never looked away from Wasabi.

Her eyes flicked straight to his.

"Yes," Nurse Joy said. "I'm afraid if she doesn't receive proper treatment soon, the damage will be permanent. Your Beedrill will never be able to fly again."

Hearing those words struck her like a slap to the face. Wasabi stumbled back until the back of her legs hit the chair. She sat down.

Soy Sauce was there instantly to comfort her.

Chase thought some more. He understood her trauma; not perfectly but he could comprehend where she was coming from. She was scarred after a Trainer had come to capture her. Not to mention a good portion of her subordinates had been killed by the same Trainer. Being captured had left her with a fear she couldn't get rid of.

She had nearly killed herself when she thought Chase had come to capture her.

However, _he_ had given her the latest of crippling wounds. He crushed one of her wings. Without the support of it, her speed had faltered down to the level of a regular human. Most of her combat depended on her speed.

But worst of all, she couldn't fly. He couldn't imagine what that meant to her.

He had options. He could either convince her to go inside a Moéball just for this operation… or force her. If he had to force her, then so be it. She would hate him and possibly leave him. She might even try to kill him again.

Soy Sauce might not forgive him either. Regardless of their recent fight, Wasabi was like a sister to her. He could imagine how she would react if he further fueled the trauma.

…As if he never made anyone hate him before. It would be like Sarah and Ginger all over again.

"I'll consider it," he said to Nurse Joy. "In the meantime, I think we're all just tired. We still need to find some food and a place to stay the night."

"There are cots available for Trainers in the other room," Nurse Joy gestured down the hallway. "You're the only one so your Moémon can use the other cots if they'd like. As for food, the MoéCenter offers free food for your Moémon. If you like, I can order some takeout. Pewter City has some of the best ramen in the region."

Like a dragon being disturbed from its slumber, his stomach chose now to unleash a growl that would frighten little children.

He didn't have anything other than nuts, berries, and roots for the past six days. Even if it gave him indigestion all night long, ramen sounded heavenly.

He almost agreed to it. But something in the back of his mind was tugging on his sleeve. He had to listen to it for this moment.

Back in his world, soup stock was made from the bones of animals. Did that mean they were made the same way here?

"Veggie ramen, please," he said with a tinge of defeat in his voice. Just as much as he didn't want to have soup made from human bones, he doubted he could have digested soup made from Moémon bones.

The dragon that was his stomach was rampaging in outrage. But it understood.

"Just a moment then," Nurse Joy picked up the receiver from her desk. "It will take some time for it all to be delivered. If you'd like, you can use the facilities. We have showers and laundry in the back. Please leave anything you need washed in the green bins. My Chansey will take care of it and give you something to wear in the meantime."

Laundry?! This place also had a washing machine?! That meant… he got to wear clean underwear and dry socks finally?!

Whatever dickbag up in the heavens who manipulated all cosmic phenomena was _finally_ looking away from Chase in this instance! He had a moment of happiness!

"I'm totally going to abuse that," he said while gathering his things. He should find somewhere to dump his backpack and the lance Wasabi gave him. "Let me know what I owe you when I get back."

…He hoped he could afford it. Maybe play the excuse card and say he thought he had more funds. Get her pity or something like that. He only had seven thousand on him and Wasabi's medical treatment cost him most of it.

Nurse Joy put a hand on the mouthpiece of the receiver and looked at him, "Mr. Rolan… with the class of Trainer you are, all of your expenses within any Moémon League station is covered. Even ordering food directly through here is covered. Have you been paying for your things at the MoéMart this entire time?"

…What the shit? So she didn't freak out about him being some sort of scam artist? She was freaking out earlier because he had _the_ best insurance in the industry?

For some odd reason… it made perfect sense. He wouldn't be able to advance in his journey if he somehow dropped dead in the street because he couldn't afford some food. Lance would lose his investment.

"…I'm going to murder him," he grumbled while dragging his things down the hallway.

The Moémon followed him. They followed him into the room full of dusty and rarely used cots in the back room. They followed him around when he picked a cot and placed his things on top, also making sure to empty the pockets of his Researcher coat and placing the contents into the backpack. And they followed him across the hall, down the corridor, and until he eventually found the washrooms.

…And they kept following him when he went into the male changing room.

"The hell are you doing?" he demanded after taking a few steps in. "Okay, look, this place is for boys only. The showers for the girls is in the room next door. That's for you three."

Squeakers he could understand. She was a small child somewhere around the age of a toddler. She had an excuse for wanting to bathe with him. And, though he had some discontent with it, he could allow it.

But he didn't want to have to deal with the girls who were too close to his age for comfort. It's not that he never showered with women before. Lord knows how many times Marla snuck into his booth. What he didn't want to deal with was the drama that always fell afterwards.

He didn't want to deal with Nurse Joy thinking he was some pervert who bathed with his Moémon. A girl like her in a quiet town like this will use it as gossip at the first instance. It will spread like fire and give her a brief moment of entertainment and satisfaction, no matter how short it would last.

And then watch as the Gym Leader turn him down because of the gossip and thought he was a freak for bathing with his gladiatorial pets.

Soy Sauce and Wasabi gave him blank looks. They just stared at him.

"I really don't want to deal with this…" he grumbled while massaging one of his temples for a quick moment. "I need you two to shower in the other room. That one is designated for women. This one is for men. This one is for me. That one is for you. Got it?"

The two exchanged a look before going back to staring blankly at him. His commands left them lost.

"Oh my God. I'm not abandoning you or anything. I'm going to just shower and be back out. I'm too hungry to do anything else. Can you just go to the other side?"

Their brows shot up. They understood finally.

…Or not. They went to the other side _of the changing room_.

He really wanted to smack his head against something hard. It was like having the briefing in the war room of the Butterfree palace all over again!

"No!" he said, crossed over to grab them both by the wrist, and dragged them out of the room. They followed until outside and he let go. He pointed to the room with the red flaps. "This one is for you. You go in there and shower. I go in this one. We all come out when we're done. Understand?"

The two looked at the doors. Their brows furrowed. Soy Sauce looked troubled while Wasabi looked annoyed. They both snapped a finger or tapped a heel.

No. They didn't understand a word he was saying.

What did he have to do? Go in there and show them how to bathe?! That would defeat the entire purpose!

"Mr. Rolan?" Nurse Joy called as she approached from down the corridor. In her arms was a pile of white scrubs. "Is something the matter? Please don't tell me the hot water isn't working again…"

"Don't know yet," he tried to not sigh in frustration. "Was I making too much noise?"

"Oh no, not at all. I just came by to pick up your laundry. I'd thought you'd be in the showers by this time."

"I thought your Chansey was going to do that."

"Hinabi can't make the delivery so I sent Chansey to pick up the order. I still need to be here in case another Trainer comes by."

"Anyways," Chase glanced at the two bugs before looking back at Joy. "I'm trying to tell these two they need to shower on their side. But they're not listening to me. That's why I haven't been able to undress yet."

"I see…" Nurse Joy muttered with a thoughtful expression. "That's rather impressive of you, Mr. Rolan. I didn't know you taught your Moémon how to use the facilities."

It was such an innocent comment. Yet it made Chase realize why the two didn't understand his command.

It also made him want to smack himself.

Looking back at his short time in Viridian Forest, he never once saw a single Moémon bathe. He had assumed they did so in private. It's not like he could spot someone randomly bathing as he walked down the street. But there was also the difference in technology as well. None of the Moémon had indoor plumbing within their palaces.

The word shower might have been completely foreign to them.

Then… it raised another issue. Because they didn't know how to use the shower, he was going to have to show them how to do it.

"It's more like I assumed too much…" he muttered while looking away. "Can you give us a few more minutes?"

"No worries," Nurse Joy said without any indication she spotted his hiccup. She extended her arms for him to accept the change of clothes. "This is all we have in stock. I'll come back in a little bit. I'll have your laundry ready by the morning."

He looked at the pile. It was a variety of shorts and tops of medical scrubs per each of their sizes. There was even something for Squeakers.

But lo and behold! Along with it came a pair of boxers! In his size! Disposable, sure, but halle-fucking-lujah.

There were also a pair of panties for the girls. But no bras. He wasn't going to ask.

He thanked Nurse Joy and waited for her to return to the front. He made sure she was out of earshot before turning back to the Moémon. Still, he spoke in a hushed tone.

"Okay, fine, I'll show you what you need to do. But you are not bathing with me, got that? Take these and follow me."

He shoved their clothes into their hands and, before looking over his shoulder, stepped into the female section of the changing room. Carefully, like instructing children, which wouldn't be far from the truth at this point, he told them what they needed to do. Afterwards, he went back to his side, changed out of his clothes, and stepped into one of the booths for the shower.

…And then he slammed his head against the tiled wall as soon as he heard the pattering of footsteps. The girls had followed him to this side, followed his instructions, and each took a stall around him.

The stalls were designed for Trainers fresh on their journey. Meaning they would be at least ten and possibly no older than thirteen. The showerheads were low and the walls forming the stalls were only so tall. Even with his _below average_ height (and fuck Lance), the upper half of Chase's torso was exposed.

…It also meant he had a clear view of the perky Wasabi and the busty Soy Sauce. They washed themselves with the complimentary soaps just like how he told them. Wasabi was in the midst of washing her hair, leaning her head back in the rinse and sticking out her chest. Soy Sauce was scrubbing her arms— her wet hair sticking to her body and covering the tips of her breasts in the most annoying tease imaginable.

They both looked at him. Their eyes were completely innocent.

He hit his head a little harder on the wall.

And then he turned the shower to its coldest setting.

So much for enjoying himself.

0-0-0

"Faster," he instructed. "Really lay it on them. Kick in their knees! Don't give them a moment to rest!"

Squeakers, in response, continued to hammer away on the tree.

Just as he had predicted, he had spent most of the night in the shitter but the ramen was perfectly worth it. In the meantime, the Moémon had slept away on the cots while Nurse Joy slept in her room beyond the counter. At the least, he had been able to cover another chapter of the Idiot's Guide.

There were fifteen different types of Moémon with the book mentioning some others found in regions outside of Kanto. They ranged from elementals, to their physical features, to even the supernatural. According to the book, Squeakers was a water-type while the other two were bug-type.

It made no sense to him. He'd thought since there was a bug-type there'd be a fish-type or aquamarine-type at the least. Second, if Squeakers was a water-type then following the same logic the bugs should be grass-type (as they lived in a goddamn _forest_ and grass-type Moémon having some sort of connection to nature). Apparently there was a distinction but the book didn't cover it.

While the Idiot's Guide gave him the bare essentials of the Moémon world… they were _bare essentials_. He'd either need to find a genuine textbook on these certain fields of study or figure it all out on his own through trial and error. Lance only gave him the book to keep him up to speed rather than give him an advantage over the average Trainer.

What's more, the book mentioned Moémon had a sort of damage scale based on their type. It meant one type of Moémon could be advantageous against another type while being susceptible to another. For instance, Squeakers, a water-type, was weak against electric-type moves.

No fucking shit. Hook up a wet sponge to a car battery and _anyone_ will get fried. The book was implying _because_ Squeakers was a fish would she be more prone to damage.

Fire was another one that baffled him. Squeakers could receive half damage from fire attacks. He could only assume because the book considered her _in water_. But even then… trying to blast a lake with a flamethrower was the dumbest idea he's ever heard. And if the book considered the other aquamarine Moémon who could live on land… he was pretty fucking sure the Moémon would still roast.

Fire is fire. There's no other way around it.

From what the book was telling him… it was more of a game of rock-paper-scissors rather than the Darwinism it was trying to impose.

Getting back to the point, since he couldn't stomach the book any longer for the day, he found Squeakers, carried her out of the MoéCenter, and got things rolling.

The first thing he _desperately_ needed to teach her was how to actually fight. While her antics were cute (in the most sarcastic use of the word possible), they had caused him nothing but trouble. He had been able to turn her Splash into a distraction, but that was only going to be able to get him so far for so long.

Squeakers was his primary Moémon. If she couldn't fight off the other pests then what good was she?

He wasn't surprised by her enthusiasm.

…He was surprised, however, by how much she could absorb.

He thought he'd only be able to teach her proper defense techniques. Things like how to roll and recover, how to take a hit, and how to counter. He thought it was going to be an arduous task that was going to take him several days before she could put them to use. With how much she was learning… he decided to test the waters and just shove everything he could down her throat.

And, by God, Squeakers was wailing on the tree like a Hollywood martial arts master!

She could kick. She could punch. She could perform a fucking _Shoryuken_.

Her squeaking _almost_ made it not disappointing. Every impact made a squeak.

"That's enough," he said finally.

Squeakers pressed her fist into her palm and bowed at the tree as though it were a most worthy foe.

…He didn't teach her that.

"This is good," he said while looking at her. "There might be hope for us yet. If you can use that against the Gym Leader then we shouldn't have much trouble. Now you have more moves than that Splash."

Squeakers looked up at him, gave him a ferociously bloodthirsty smile, and a thumbs-up. She was ready to draw some blood.

"Go and take a shower," he said, nudging his head back to the MoéCenter. "We're going to head out as soon as everyone's ready."

The little girl saluted and hurried back towards the MoéCenter with excitement. Her little shoes squeaked with each step.

He didn't follow her. Instead, his gaze turned towards the spectator who had been watching for some time.

Wasabi had kept back while he trained Squeakers. When their eyes met, she looked peeved. She had her lance strapped to her side while holding the one she gave him in her hand. She approached him and raised it up for him to accept. There was a message in her eyes.

He wasn't supposed to leave it alone, apparently. It must have been some sort of warrior's custom to her. It would explain why she was armed even in her scrubs.

He accepted it without a comment. Instead, his eyes sharpened as he addressed her, "We need to talk."

Her gaze matched his. Her head tilted slightly. She was listening.

"I'm not going to apologize for what happened to your wing," he said in a gritty voice. "Not when you tried to kill me. I meant it when I said you should live with it. But… you're so weak without your ability to fly any scrub from your faction could take your crown. I can only imagine what else out there will be able to kill you."

She gave him a challenging glare. The grip on her lance's hilt tightened. Her head was raised a little higher. She welcomed any challenge who would dare to try to take what was hers.

"Your pride is going to become a burden very quickly. You can't defend yourself. I'm sure you can fend off the most basic bitch, but you won't be able to survive against a predator. I won't always be there to protect you.

"Your options are to have that wing treated as soon as possible or leave and test your luck back in the wilderness. You can go back to your hive since we're so close. But, if you want to stick around, I can't have you like this. I'm giving you until the end of the day. Either let me Nurse Joy fix you right or you go back to the forest."

He saw the confliction in her gaze. Pain, fear, doubt, hate, desperation, and grief. She despised him for making her confront this matter but sought his guidance to ease her out of it. She was a very sad girl who couldn't overcome this hurdle on her own, knew it, and hated him for it as much as she craved his assistance.

He said nothing else as he turned away and went back to the MoéCenter.

0-0-0

"What do you mean he's not here?!"

"Exactly what I just said," the preteen clicked her tongue. "Did I stutter? Brock isn't here."

Pewter City's Gym was one of the nicer and more modern buildings in the city. Or, to be more precise, the building that had been upgraded to modern standards that matched the MoéCenter. It was also bigger than the MoéCenter. Chase had thought it was the town hall until he asked for directions.

But come to his surprise (not) when one of the Gym Leader's underlings rejected him right at the front door. Seriously, what the fuck was this girl doing just standing out here? Did she have nothing better to do than stand around and reject Trainers wanting to challenge the Gym Leader?

"When will he back?" he tried his best to not growl.

"Dunno," was her flat answer.

"…I'm going to need something better than that."

"Look, _mister_ ," she snapped like any other impatient tween, "Brock's time is very important! He's up in Mt. Moon on a very important errand! You're going to have to come back once he returns."

People were watching. He couldn't strangle this girl.

"Do you have an estimated time?" he pressed next. "Tomorrow? Next week? Next _month_?"

"Dunno," she said with a dispassionate shrug. She was done with this conversation. "Why don't you hit up the museum or something? He'll be back when he gets back."

"Does he have a substitute or something?" his hand was twitching. If he moved it to massage the throbbing vein at his temple, he was pretty sure it would eventually turn to him choking her. "Shouldn't he have some kind of backup for things like this? Like when Trainers need to carry on their pilgrimage?"

"Sucks to be you then," she retorted. "Should have been here a day sooner. Some fat guy showed up before you and wiped the floor with us. He challenged everyone in the Gym because he couldn't battle Brock. All of our Moémon are in the MoéCenter."

Nurse Joy failed to mention that little tidbit.

"I can't stay here for more than a week…" he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. His frustrations went from the little twat to the fat ass. He was probably halfway to Cerulean in his goddamn _car_. "I've already wasted too much time getting here."

"Sorry, but there's nothing I can do," she said without a single hint of sincerity.

Great. Just great. Now he was stuck. What were the chances of him going up to Mt. Moon and miraculously finding Brock? It wasn't like a small park. It was a goddamn _mountain_. He was more than likely to miss him and learn Brock had already returned while Chase wound up lost for weeks.

The door opened. Someone stepped outside.

"Yo, Champ!" greeted an energetic Stewart.

Chase… just stared at the man.

"A-Ah, that's right," Stewart flushed and fixed his glasses. "Sorry. Forgot you don't like that. Good morning, Chase. Glad to see you made it out of Viridian Forest in once piece."

Chase wasn't sure who he should strangle at this point.

"You know this guy?" the nameless girl turned and questioned the researcher.

"Why, yes," Stewart returned. "We tried to pass through the forest together. Terrible mess that was. I had feared the forest had claimed him. But as expected from a Trainer! And to try and challenge the Gym Leader so soon? Impressive! Sadly, Gym Leader Brock is away at the moment on urgent business."

"That's what I've been trying to tell him!" the girl threw up her hands. Without looking at Chase, she dismissed herself and went back into the Gym.

"Stewart…" Chase breathed out. "The fuck?"

"Hmm?" the Moémon researcher blinked.

"I saw your corpse frozen in honeyed carbonite!" Chase almost shouted. "How the fuck are you still alive and here?!"

"Bwah!" Stewart jolted where he stood. He tried to readjust his glasses with a shaking hand. "C-Chase, calm down. I'm not dead. As you can see, I'm clearly living. Though I won't deny I thought I was dead too. When the Beedrill imprisoned me, it wasn't to feast on me at a later point. The chamber they put me in was, in fact, something used for rejuvenation! They were treating my wounds!"

Slowly, slowly enough to hear his neck grinding, Chase turned his head to give a persecuting glare at Wasabi. She was giving him a questioning look with another glare of her own.

"Oh my goodness…" Stewart gasped. "Is that… Are those? My word, Chase! You managed to capture not one but _both_ the Viridian Forest queens?!"

"It's more like they won't leave me alone," he said bluntly, returning to Stewart. "They've been nothing but trouble so far."

It was Soy Sauce who fidgeted. Her face turned crimson as she bowed her head with shame.

Let it be known Soy Sauce is a heavy sleeper. And a clinger. When he found her still sleeping after everyone else was awake, he tried to wake her up. She instantly latched onto him and pulled him onto her cot. The bug's strength was unreal and he couldn't break free unless he wanted to hurt her. He almost considered it.

…It had nothing to do with the fact his head was pressed into her chest. He will deny any and all accusations of such slandering.

Oh. And she's also a drooler. His hair was soaked by the time he was able to wake her up.

"When did you get here?" Chase asked.

"Yesterday, actually," Stewart paused to ponder. "Officer Jenny sent a tow to pull my truck out and take me to here. My truck is currently in the shop and I was able to recover a nifty sum of my equipment. I was just using the Gym facilities to report to Professor Oak as well as taking care of my base needs."

Those numbers don't add up. It doesn't make sense! The forest was on lockdown! Chase had to bust out of there while Stewart was able to _drive_ out without a hitch? What the hell?!

"Something troubling you, champ?" Stewart asked, forgetting and forgoing the use of the nickname.

"Just… a really bad week," Chase groaned with his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Stewart said with enough sympathy to make up for what the other girl lacked before. "I'm sorry to lay this on you but… I may need your help again."

Chase gave him a flat look.

"There has been some irregular activity up in Mt. Moon," Stewart was completely oblivious to Chase's attempt to burn a hole through his scalp. "The Moémon there have been behaving erratically. Not as erratically as Viridian Forest, mind you. Some of the Moémon found in the caves have migrated outside. Some have even reached as far as Pewter and Cerulean. I am to investigate what is making them leave from their homes."

"And you want me to watch your back," Chase groaned again.

"Precisely!" Stewart said with enthusiasm.

"What? No," Chase returned with a flat tone. "Stewart, this sounds like Viridian Forest all over again. I'm pretty fucking sure we're going to wind up as prisoners to the mole people."

"…I'm afraid the reference is lost to me."

"I'm saying shit is going to hit the fan and we're going to wind up fighting some big bad in there. It's a mountain, right? Maybe they're leaving because it's about to explode from a volcanic eruption. Or maybe some monster-class Moémon moved in there recently. Or maybe something in the cities is drawing them in, like food."

"In any case," Stewart fixed his glasses, "those are the precise reasons why I need to find out. We will not be alone in this endeavor, Chase. I have received word from Gym Leader Brock at his camp. He has already begun the investigation as it pertains to his duties as a Gym Leader. He is the one leading the expedition and I am merely offering my professional input."

Chase was about to argue about why not having Brock do all the heavy lifting instead. Why bring Chase when he would have a legitimately qualified professional protecting him? But then, inspiration struck him.

"…Quick question," his tone shifted. "Does the Gym Leader need to be in the Gym specifically in order to accept challenges from Trainers?"

Stewart considered the question, "No. Not in particular. A Gym Leader is like any other Trainer. So long as the Gym Leader accept the challenge, if defeated, they are obliged to deliver their badges, proof of accomplishment, to the challenger. Why do you ask?"

"He carries these badges with him at all times?"

"All Gym Leaders do, yes."

"And the badge itself is proof enough?"

"Quite."

"…When do you leave?"

"My truck should be operational by the evening. I plan to leave as early as tomorrow morning if I can find an appropriate escort."

"Do you have a guide to get there?"

"No, but I do have a map and the coordinates of where Brock is camping."

"How long will it take to get there?"

"A couple of hours."

"How long will you be staying there?"

"I hope to find the cause no more than three days. Either way, I will need to travel to Cerulean to report my progress, regardless of how little it is."

"How long does it take to travel from here to there by car? Is there even an accessible road?"

"Twelve to fifteen hours. They made a highway a few years back. It was quite the project from what I've heard… though it's rarely used. It would normally take the Trainer a week to hike it! Two to three if they dared to traverse the caverns!"

"Well, fuck then," Chase shrugged. "Sure. I'll go with you."

"Y-You will?" Stewart looked surprised.

…The man didn't realize what Chase had been leaning on?

In any case, this worked out spectacularly for multiple reasons. For one, he was going directly to Brock and was going to get that stupid badge so he could move on. Also, if things went peachy, Chase would be able to get a free ride to Cerulean.

It meant Wasabi could get that surgery after all. No need to cram her inside a Moéball and traumatize her further. He gets to save time and Wasabi gets to save her sanity. Everybody wins.

Plus, if push came to shove, he had a newly trained fighting Squeakers and the already impressive Soy Sauce to back him up. He also still had his Crest and— heaven forbid or the entire mountain collapses— the Shadow.

Oh. And Brock was there. Having a professional made things a lot easier.

What could possibly go wrong?


	5. Chapter 5

**A note from the author!**

As of writing this note, it is my birthday. Upon this day, I decide to write something special. _Why are they all girls?_ is this year's selection. I originally wanted to cover the entire arc of Mt. Moon but ran out of both time and space. This chapter caps at 16k and I was only able to complete half of it. I don't know when I'll be updating the second half so I have no right to ask that you be patient. After all, updating this story required a special day to do it.

For those reading this, I thank you for your patience and for your praise. This is one of my most beloved stories even if I hardly update it. I have so much planned and yet I'm easily distracted by my other projects. I can only hope you accept my apology.

I hope with this new year (of mine), I will be better able to write what I want whenever I want. Either way, I hope to have another full year of your support.

Thank you very much.

Enjoy~

* * *

They were on the move first thing in the morning, just like Stewart said. What tools Stewart had managed to scrap up from Viridian Forest (which wasn't much) were bound in bungie cords to the back of his pickup truck. Wasabi and Soy Sauce were forced to sit back there but were given a tarp and blankets once the temperature shifted as they climbed the mountain. Just like in Viridian Forest, Stewart took the wheel while Chase rode shotgun with Squeakers wedged between them.

Chase had spent yesterday gathering everything he thought he would need at the MoéMart. Unfortunately, the number of expenses he was allowed to make weren't as liberal as with the MoéCenter. The clerk handed him a list of things the League was willing to cover for him, which only included Potions, Escape Rope, status ailment curatives, and Moéballs.

It didn't even cover food expenses. Or underwear.

What money he had snatched from the Beedrill treasury wasn't enough to cover what he really wanted… such as the fourteen inch machete or the industrial campfire kit that he may or may not tinker with into a flamethrower. He couldn't buy those things unless he was willing to sacrifice the necessities like food, water, and thermal protection.

He _did_ splurge on buying underwear. He was not going to have another Viridian Forest incident.

"You must be quite the exceptional trainer!" said Stewart as they drove. "Your Magikarp I can understand but how on Earth are you able to manage the queens without a Moéball?"

"One knows better to cause trouble and the other has PTSD against Moéballs," he gave a blunt remark while his head turned enough to spot the two bug girls over his shoulder. They glanced back at him through the window.

"Is that so…?" Stewart said with uncertainty. It was the voice of a man who didn't know whether Chase had been joking or not. "Well, what are your plans regarding your Magikarp? She's fine as she is now but only the most experienced of Trainers can control a Gyarados, tamed or not."

"Is that what Squeakers will evolve into?" he asked back.

"Why yes," Stewart nodded gravely, though his eyes flashed with excitement. "The Gyarados is one of the most feared Moémon in Kanto. It's said they are the most ferocious and the hardest to control due to their violent nature. They often accidentally kill their Trainer in a fit of outrage or their surroundings. I believe only the most disciplined of Trainers has a chance of managing these creatures— that of course being Lance, the Moémon League Champion."

"Squeakers?" Chase's voice was incredulous. "You mean this dumb fish who has yet to realize she's out of water will turn into a destructive force of nature?"

Aforementioned fish girl squeaked along with each bump on the road.

"It's… possible, yes," Stewart rapped his fingers along the wheel as he thought. "Magikarp are one of the hardest Moémon to raise because of their inadequacy for battle. The only move they know in their arsenal is SPLASH and I'm sure you've found by now does nothing. They're also soft and prone to wound easy. Perhaps one in ten thousand Magikarp fully evolve into Gyarados."

"I'm also going to assume a wild Gyarados is even rarer?" Chase considered. "They sound like the bottom of the food chain."

"There are many fish stories about finding Gyarados in the wild," Stewart remarked, paused, and then began to snort at the pun he hadn't noticed until now. He calmed himself when Chase gave him a flat look. "That is to say… they are only fish stories. It's as you suspect; the Magikarp are hunted by other, bigger water-type Moémon for food."

Chase leaned in his seat while his face went green. War he could stomach; he lived and breathed it. But cannibalism expressed through Darwinism? He imagined a school of Squeakers fleeing from a clique of carnivorous school girl mermaids.

But then, a thought occurred to him. When he imagined a school of fish fleeing…

"Do Magikarp travel in groups?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, well, yes," Stewart adjusted his glasses. "Schools, actually. And there are so many you can toss any Old Rod into the water anywhere and pull them out. Be it out in the ocean or in any lake or river in Kanto. Swimming in such large groups increases their chance of survival. After all, a bright orange Magikarp stands out by itself. Versus… well… there is a greater chance the one they swim next to will be eaten instead."

"Squeakers…" Chase looked down at his Moémon, who looked up at him with her large eyes full of innocence and stupidity. "What the hell were you doing by yourself?"

Squeakers craned its head to the side and tried to think. Naturally she couldn't come up with an answer.

"Alone?" Stewart gave Chase a sideways glance. "Where exactly did you find this Moémon, Chase?"

"On my way to Viridian," Chase answered back. "I found a pond off of the road and decided to fish in it. She's what came out."

Squeakers squeaked with joy as though her nearly asphyxiating numerous times were but a nostalgic and heartwarming memory.

"Oh dear…" Stewart said, his voice dropping its intellectual excitement. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…"

"What?" Chase looked at the man with his scowl furrowing.

"Remember when I said… Trainers tend to give up on raising Magikarp?" Stewart had a sour and piteous look in his eyes. "There are no actual ponds from Pallet Town to Viridian City. The land is sloped so it's easy for water to accumulate after it rains. It is a true wonder she can breathe on land— I'm afraid the water would have dried up quickly… if she didn't starve. One of the Trainers who met with Professor Oak must have left her there instead of releasing her in her natural habitat. But the question is… which one?"

Chase recalled his meeting with Squeakers. He never once considered his position; he had only been complaining about his own circumstances and scheming how to kill Lance. He wondered what would have happened if he left Squeakers at that pond. She couldn't leave immediately— she clearly needed water to breathe when he first found her. Assuming she could have left on her own when pushed to desperation…

He imagined her body collapsed with those bird-toddlers pecking at her insides like vultures.

Squeakers squeaked when his hand patted her head. She nuzzled against it and smiled brightly.

"Not that I blame him," Chase commented. "The squeaking alone would have done it for me. The only problem is I can't get rid of her."

Squeakers grabbed onto his arm and refused to let go. She looked up at him with a defiant look.

"How long will it take to reach Brock's camp?" Chase asked next.

"We head up Route 3 and stop right before entering Mt. Moon," Stewart answered crisply as if it were his God-given job. "We will meet up with Brock near the entrance. We should be there before noon."

"…I don't suppose we get radio reception here, do we?" Chase asked as he pushed the master button on the stereo system. It didn't turn on.

"It was damaged back in Viridian Forest, I'm afraid," Stewart gave him an apologetic smile. "I can whistle for you if you'd like. I won the talent show at Moémon Tech three years running!"

"Why don't you tell me about your part in Viridian Forest?" Chase tried to reject the idea indirectly. Stewart was giving him a ride; he didn't want to be rude to the man aside from his usual crassness and occasional vulgar vocabulary.

"Oh, yes!" Stewart's excitement returned. "We could exchange details! I am eager to learn how you survived as well as capture both forest's queens! Now let's see… It all began when one of the Beedrill pulled me out of stasis…"

And thus Stewart began his dry and overly descriptive telling of his story. The man had found everything within the Beedrill hive absolutely fascinating. It took him half an hour of nonstop rambling just to explain how the Beedrills escorted him out of the tree.

The man can talk when something interested him. At least his talking let time drag on. Unfortunately, Chase couldn't pull out the Idiot's Guide and read the next chapter. There will be another time for that.

0-0-0

"…You know," Chase slowly stepped out of the truck and eyed the so-called camp. His brows furrowed until they made a flat line. "When you said camp, I was imagining a tent and a fire pit at the bare minimum. I wasn't expecting _this_."

There was a goddamn MoéCenter at the end of the road!

"Ah, yes, I forgot to mention that," Stewart said as he stepped out and checked the condition of his things in the back. "Frankly, I forgot the MoéCenter was here as well."

He could not fault the man. At least… he tried not to. Chase tried to take a step back and look at it through Stewart's perspective. It wasn't like Chase knew the exact location of every hospital in any of the American states.

But that was only half of the problem here.

"No," Chase threw up his hands and gestured at the building, "I mean, _why_ is there a MoéCenter in the middle of nowhere?! Pewter City is just at the bottom of the hill! Look! I can see it right there!"

If they were to take a few paces towards the cliff side could they look over the railing and spot the compacted city at the bottom of the ravine.

Emergency stations on ski resorts were a thing. But the thing about them was the fact they were built in response and anticipation of people getting hurt _at the resort_. Mt. Moon looked like nothing but a giant pile of rocks. Unless there was a ski resort on the other side of the mountain that Chase couldn't see— no, wait— _if there was_ one on the other side of the mountain, why was the MoéCenter on this side?!

The world made less sense the longer he was in it.

"I… don't have the answer to that," Stewart hesitated. "The League is the one who decides where to build Moémon service centers. I'm sure they had a reason for building one at the foot of Mt. Moon."

Out of all the things he would demand out of Lance, this was going to be at the bottom of the list and might never come to light the next time they talked.

…What irritated him more was the fact he was sure Lance would ignore all other questions and answer this specific one. One, because it was useless information in Chase's hands; and two, because Lance would know answering would piss him off further.

"You two getting off or are your butts frozen to the bottom?" he asked the two bug girls while he reached over and pulled out his backpack. It clanked with canteens, pots, the canned food within, and Wasabi's spare lance strapped to the side.

He will either need to find a bigger bag in Cerulean or buy other packs for the girls to start carrying their own weight on this damn adventure. If he wasn't going to go crazy from the squeaking then the clanking of the cookware will do it.

Wasabi and Soy Sauce were pressed against each other, huddling with the same blanket wrapped around their shoulders. They didn't use the tarp like he told them. Had they placed it over the blanket then the bitter winds at this altitude wouldn't have punctured through them. While it was a little chilly just standing here, they didn't have any wind protection while on the back of a moving vehicle.

Reluctantly, stiffly, and inching so to not release a single gap of each other's body warmth, they went to climb over the side of the car.

Wasabi slipped and fell on top of him.

He knew Soy Sauce did not try to catch her. Instead, she used the chance to steal the blanket so she could cocoon herself entirely. She showed no shame whatsoever in the name of warmth.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

Before he could berate Soy Sauce, Wasabi shivered, ripped open the buttons of his Researcher Coat, and dug her face into his chest. She wrapped her arms around him through the coat and pressed as much as her body as she could against him. A sigh escaped her lips and she stopped shivering.

"F-For fuck's sake," he swore. No, he wasn't blushing with this much contact. And if Stewart so much as made a comment on it there was a six inch tactical knife with his name on it.

Oddly enough, Stewart didn't have any sort of reaction towards what he saw. He finished checking his equipment, took out a duffle bag from the pile, and waited for Chase to get up.

"Alright, come on," Chase rose to his feet. He tried to push her away but Wasabi's grip tightened… enough to make him groan with pain. "Alright, alright! Just stop squeezing me! Here, just take it."

What he did was utter blasphemy in his book. He shirked out of his Researcher coat and threw it over her shoulders. The fabrics still held a trace of his Aura, which would keep her warm like an electric blanket.

Wasabi wrapped it around her and lowered her head until her nose was beneath the collar. It looked more like a tent than a coat with the way her wings pushed against the back. Fortunately it was long enough to cover as low as her knees.

He began to scratch his arm and check his perimeter. He felt naked without his Researcher coat. It was a piece of armor as well as an instrument of combat that had saved his ass too many times in the war. Hell, it served him well in this chaotic world. To hand it over felt like provoking whatever cosmic force that dictated his life to come at him.

Nothing happened. But he didn't want to wait out here in the open until something did.

"Let's go," he told all his Moémon (and Stewart).

The doors to the MoéCenter didn't open right away. He thought they weren't electric and was about to figure out how to open them manually when they finally activated. Both glass panels shimmied and shook as they creaked open.

"Jesus Christ," he hissed and crossed his arms. "It's colder in here than out there!"

The MoéCenter was a cookie cutter copy of the one in Pewter and Viridian. He began to see a pattern in these buildings. The only difference was the quality of their up-keeping. For one, as was his first impression, ventilation was poor and there was no heater. Another, a few of the lights hanging over were out. Last, Nurse Joy wasn't at her post at the front reception desk. Most of her devices were off or asleep.

"H-Hello?" he heard Nurse Joy in the back. "Is someone there?"

"Yeah," Chase barked back. "We're looking for Brock!"

"Gym Leader Brock," Stewart corrected.

"…Is Brock a common name?" Chase asked with heavy sarcasm.

"No," Stewart answered without taking a hint. "He's the only one I'm aware of. I wasn't answering to clear up some sort of confusion. I did it because Brock deserves the respect he is due."

He says that but also uses his name casually all in the same sentence.

Chase looked down when he felt something against his leg. Squeakers had latched onto him for warmth. She looked up at him with pleading eyes. She didn't want to be pushed aside just like Wasabi.

He rolled his eyes, picked her up, and carried her towards Soy Sauce. The Butterfree watched him as he pulled open her arms and shoved Squeakers into her care. Squeakers' head popped out of the blanket covers with a face full of relief. She let out a very long squeak like a rubber duck being squeezed completely out of air.

"Yes, hello!" Nurse Joy came out of the back room. She was dressed in the same white and pink uniform as her relatives. She smiled brightly at everyone, "Welcome to the Moémon Center. Would you like your Moémon healed back to full strength?"

He didn't like the tone of her voice. While it was full of smiles… it was the voice of a woman desperate for something.

"Erm… no," Stewart was the one who answered. "I'm not a Trainer and my associate's Moémon are in peak condition. We came from Pewter City on an errand from the League. Is Gym Leader Brock still here?"

"Are you sure?" Nurse Joy asked again as she gave Chase her full attention. "Not even for a checkup? Your Beedrill looks a little hurt. If you put her in your Moéball I can patch her back up."

Wasabi moved until she was completely against his back. She glared at Nurse Joy over his shoulder.

"No thank you," Chase said flatly.

"Is that so?" Nurse Joy's smile shifted. "It'll be quick. We have state of the art equipment. We guarantee your Moémon will be back in full condition no longer than ten seconds. It's also free of charge."

Can this woman read his mind or something?! He opened his mouth three times and had to shut it after each thing she had to say.

Scary. This Nurse Joy was the scariest of them all.

He shot a glare at Wasabi, who ignored him in favor of plotting how to kill Nurse Joy. He saw the glint of bloodlust in her eyes.

"She has issues with Moéballs," Chase offered. "We need to head to Cerulean to have some surgery. Sorry but we're going to have to pass."

Plus he didn't have any Moéballs, much to Squeakers' disappointment. The one she wanted, called a Great Ball model, wasn't covered by the League. When he went through the list of needs this morning, Moéballs were below his need for a machete. And if he couldn't get his overqualified half-sword, then Moéballs were out of the question.

There was also the fact even trying to get a set of the free red model Moéballs triggered Wasabi enough to brandish her weapon in the middle of the store.

In any case, he couldn't get them treated the conventional way Nurse Joy was practically begging for.

"I understand," Nurse Joy said but looked at the other Moémon. "I can still provide a free checkup for your Moémon while your Beedrill remains with… Is that a Magikarp?"

"Okay, I'll bite," Chase turned to the offensive to both avoid the typical Squeakers-out-of-water conversation as well as his Moéball dilemma. "You're a lot pushier than the other Nurse Joys. Why do you want to treat them so badly? Does the League give you money every time or something?"

It was here did Nurse Joy deflate. She sighed and put a hand to her cheek. "It's exactly what you think. We're in the middle of nowhere, as you can see. This MoéCenter was built after the demand due to traffic coming through Mt. Moon in my grandmother's time. But once they built that highway do Trainers skip the traditional route. You can go between Pewter and Cerulean without ever coming my way.

"And it's not that I get paid per each task, per se. Every year the League evaluates how much money each MoéCenter needs based on a census. We're not on the verge of being shut down… not yet at least… but maintenance is secondary. Most of the power goes to the medical equipment. I'm sorry, we can't afford to keep the furnace on at all. I can make you some coffee if you'd like."

"Only if it's not decaf," Chase jumped at the opportunity.

"Yes!" Nurse Joy perked up. "Just a moment!"

She moved to the other side of the room. It was the same spot where the coffee and vending machines and complimentary confections lay. Except the vending machine was empty and turned off while there was no pink box of fresh donuts or basket of fresh fruit. Nurse Joy also had to plug in the machine and wait for it to warm up.

God. This place looked more and more depressing by the instant. He understood the lack of money due to a lack of Trainers crossing through— that was how any government-owned facility worked in his world. No fires in a small town after a great deal of time meant less firefighters. But to be _this_ dry of funds to not even afford to keep the coffee maker on?!

"E-Excuse me," Stewart spoke up while she waited. "Regarding Gym Leader Brock…?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes!" Nurse Joy blinked as though she had _just_ noticed Stewart's presence. Evidently she only cared about Trainers and had dismissed him enough to forget about him entirely. "Mr. Brock went out to explore Mt. Moon earlier this morning. He should be back at any—"

"Oh Nurse Jooooooooy~" sang the voice of a young man. It was almost muffled by the screeching of the electric doors.

They turned to see a young man around Chase's age, perhaps a year younger. He was dressed in cargo pants, sneakers, a plain orange t-shirt, and green flannel vest. His skin was a shade darker than those Chase had come across while his hair was brown and wild with the way the hair frayed everywhere.

Chase noticed the two Moéballs strapped to his belt.

"Ah, welcome back Mr. Brock," Nurse Joy smiled at him. "Was your trip eventful?"

"The most eventful!" he skipped a few steps, brushed past the group, and clamped Nurse Joy's hands in his. "My journey was long and dangerous. The tunnels of Mt. Moon are dark and cold. Oh Nurse Joy, your presence warms my heart. I couldn't bear to be away from you but my duties as Gym Leader forced us to be separate."

"Is… Is that so…?" Nurse Joy struggled to say through a forced smile. "Are your Moémon in need of care?"

"Yes," Brock stepped away and removed the Moéballs from his belt. "My Geodude and Onix took a few scratches. They're more tired and could use a good rest."

"Then this will take just a moment," Nurse Joy took the orbs in her hands and went to her desk. She placed the Moéballs onto a silver tray as she began to power up the machines within her station.

Chase watched as she placed the Moéballs into one of the machines which looked too much like a copier. She pressed a few buttons on the screen and lights lit up along the surface. The Moéballs began to light up along its ridges and the central button. After a few seconds, the machine pinged and Nurse Joy pulled out the orbs, placed them back onto the silver tray, and held it out for Brock.

"Here you are," Nurse Joy had a more sincere smile for him. "Your Moémon are back in tip-top shape."

"Thank you very much," Brock smiled back at her and accepted his Moémon.

At that moment, the coffee machine started to kick in. But instead of black liquid did heated water start to pour into the jug. Nurse Joy went back to her desk and pulled out a jar of black powder.

…Instant coffee. A confection worse than decaf. Fucking hell.

"Excuse me, Gym Leader Brock?" Stewart spoke up now that things started to calm down.

"Hmm?" Brock glanced as though just realizing there were other people in the MoéCenter.

"I'm Professor Oak's assistant," Stewart introduced himself and held out his hand for a shake. "We spoke on the phone yesterday? I'm Stewart and this is my associate, Chase. We've come to help."

"Oh, hello!" Brock shook the older man's hand in a firm grip and polite smile. "Just Brock is fine. Glad you could make it! There's a lot we need to cover. And, Chase, hello. It's a pleasure to… Is that…?"

Chase didn't accept Brock's hand. He kept his distance. Besides, the man was distracted by the same thing that captivated everyone else.

While he was awestruck by Squeakers, Chase gave silent gestures to Nurse Joy while she was preparing his coffee. Three sugar packs and two straws of cream powder. She was even kind enough to stir it for him before coming over to hand it over to him. He thanked her despite the concoction being a complete and utter disaster.

He usually drank his coffee black. _This_ wasn't coffee. This was dyed water with caffeine. He should have made a cup back in Pewter while he had the chance.

Meanwhile, Brock was circling around Soy Sauce while he tried to capture every angle of Squeakers in her arms. Soy Sauce fidgeted where she stood while Squeakers watched him with innocent curiosity.

"Can I help you with something?" Chase all but growled. The way the guy was looking at Squeakers sent alarms off.

"Is she yours?" Brock asked him with amazement. "I've never seen a Butterfree this large before. Do you mind if I take a look without the blanket?"

Oh. He was staring at Soy Sauce.

Yeah, that didn't make him feel any better.

"That depends on her," Chase muttered as he sipped his coffee. His lips twitched at the taste. "Soy Sauce, what do you want to do?"

Soy Sauce gave him a look that demanded he help her out or make the decision for her. He didn't; she was a big girl who could make her own decisions. She was a damn queen.

She eventually released Squeakers and lowered the blanket. She folded it over her arms as she stretched out her wings.

"Absolutely amazing!" Brock gushed. He circled around Soy Sauce again. "You must be a really amazing Trainer to raise such a Moémon. Most who come through Viridian Forest to challenge me usually have a Caterpie or Weedle. Some even evolve them fully into Butterfree and Beedrill. But I've never seen any like this."

He recalled what the other Moémon in the forest looked like. Both Butterfree and Beedrill underlings looked younger than their queens. While the queens looked around Chase's age in maturity, their subjects looked to be in middle school. Really, Soy Sauce and Wasabi were one of a kind.

"Yes!" Stewart leapt in as if it were his triumph. "These are in fact the queens of the Viridian Forest! Chase had managed to capture them on his way through. Actually, Chase, how _did_ you manage to accomplish such a feat?"

Stewart had babbled on so much Chase never got to share that side of the story. Not that he was willing to tell him the actual story in the first place. Stewart didn't seem like the character who would tolerate the murder of a child.

"Astounding," Brock said as he began to look at Soy Sauce's wings. His hands traced the ridge of them carefully.

Soy Sauce made a noise and her wings twitched at his touch. She looked a little uneasy but didn't shirk him away. She only watched him carefully. As did Chase.

His eyes narrowed as Brock went to the front of Soy Sauce and stared deeply at her face. It was becoming less of admiration and more critique. Chase had to remind himself these people viewed Moémon as animals— Brock was merely evaluating the quality of her breed. However uncomfortable Soy Sauce was becoming didn't matter to him. Chase might have to step in after all.

And then, Brock pressed his hands over her tits and gave them a squeeze. He hummed in deep thought as he checked their firmness.

Soy Sauce's face turned crimson and she jerked. But she didn't break free. Her eyes flashed towards Chase's in desperate plea.

"Okay, that's enough!" Chase moved and grabbed him by the collar. He pulled Brock off of her. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Soy Sauce moved away to hide behind Wasabi. Wasabi held out her lance, pointed at Brock. It wasn't a stance to attack him; she intended to fend him off in defense if he tried to do the same thing to her.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away there," Brock offered with an apologetic bow. "You see, it's my dream to become a Moémon Breeder one day. I've studied a lot about the physiology of several Kanto Moémon and your Butterfree and Beedrill are gems in this study!"

Moémon… _Breeder_. Chase shuddered at the thought.

"Just… keep your hands to yourself," Chase told him as he tried to swallow the disgust. Honestly, it was more like Brock was checking out Soy Sauce like a dog show judge. "Try the same thing with Wasabi and I can't promise she won't skewer you."

"I… understand," Brock said with disappointment.

"Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get straight to business. What can you tell us about Mt. Moon?"

For the first time, Brock fell into a serious tone. "That's fine. Do you mind if you join me for lunch? We can talk about my findings then. I haven't eaten all day and I can treat you to something."

0-0-0

Outside of the MoéCenter and around the corner was a cleared area with a pit in the middle. They huddled around the fire as Brock stirred the contents of his pot, a simple stew of miso soup. In his pack was a bundle of rice, pickled fruits, and strips of seaweed, to which he bundled them all together to make rice balls. Chase offered to use some of his own ingredients but Brock politely declined.

"There were no Moémon used in the making of these, were there?" Chase asked right before he was about to dig in.

"No," Brock answered. "Everything is natural. Why?"

"Personal preference," was all he offered as he took a bite of the plumb rice ball.

…Why the _fuck_ Brock called them donuts was anyone's guess.

Meanwhile, the Moémon were eating a different diet. He had purchased them packaged bags of Moémon food, which were little pellets of processed and questionable ingredients. It reminded him of dog food. Either way, the girls were the ones who got to choose which flavors they wanted based on the fruit, berry, and meat logos on the label.

Squeakers ate her fish-flavored pellets on his lap while the bugs ate their berry-infused pellets at both his sides.

He questioned Squeaker's choice the most but chose to not put much thought into it. Hardly anything made sense in this world.

Nurse Joy also joined them along with her Chansey. The Moémon was more like Nurse Joy's younger sister than her pet with her pink hair and a similar outfit. The two of them didn't eat but sat merely for the sake of being near the fire and to enjoy company in this vacant area. They rarely saw visitors by the way she shared her story.

"Were you able to find what's been bothering the local Moémon?" Chase began once everyone began to settle and eat their meal. While everyone chewed at their own pace, Chase had downed everything given to him. He and his crew had been ambushed one too many times during campfire meals like this. They adapted and made sure at least two were always on sentry when they set up camp.

There might not be any Tactical Hunters in this world, but habits die hard. Especially when they were habits that had saved his and his teammates' lives.

"Would you like some more?" Brock asked as he gestured to the pot.

"I don't like to waste time," Chase returned with a pointed look. "It's best to take care of a problem as soon as possible before it can fester."

Brock moved the pot away from the fire and took a seat on a foldout chair. His hand cradled a bowl of soup. "Someone has been disturbing the Moémon within Mt. Moon. I took the old route through the caverns and found lights installed in the deeper tunnels. Parases are planting their mushrooms elsewhere and the Zubats are invading other Moémon territory; all in order to hide from the light."

Chase had no idea what any of these Moémon were and chose to say nothing with a blank face. He kept staring at Brock and listened, pretending he understood the younger man's words while secretly filing them away for later review.

"I trust this would mean territorial conflict with the Jigglypuff and Cliffairy, correct?" Stewart inquired of Brock.

"That's the thing," Brock frowned. "The Jigglypuffs and Cliffairies were nowhere to be seen. I couldn't find any Geodudes either. It's like they upped and left."

"Did you find any human activity aside from the lights?" Chase asked next. "Setting up a lighting system would mean they're there for the long haul. This isn't just poaching. Whoever's in there is looking for something and know it'll take some time."

"Most of my investigation was focused around the living circumstances of the Moémon," Brock explained. "I spent my morning calming them down or stop them from fighting another."

Chase accepted the answer and turned to Stewart, "I don't suppose the League or some business has a permit for spelunking, do they?"

"Mt. Moon is a national landmark and is protected by the League," Nurse Joy was the one to answer. "It was originally used as a mining facility for Moon Stones but was shut down once the supply started to dwindle."

"What is the current price of Moon Stones in the market?" Chase latched onto the idea. He had no idea what a Moon Stone was but the idea couldn't be dissimilar to his world's Gold Rush.

"Moon Stones cannot be sold or purchased by any open market within Kanto," Stewart answered as if the idea offended him. Maybe Moon Stones were a type of drug? "They're sold in some of the stores in other regions but definitely not in this one."

"Off the market, then." Chase resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Stewart gave him a blank look. "Black market. Under the table dealings. Goddammit Stewart, illegal transactions not sanctioned by the League. As in _I_ give you a slab of this stuff and you give me cash."

"Oh," Stewart's eyes widened as he adjusted his glasses. His face flushed with scandal as if he had just learned what mommy and daddy were really doing when he saw them wrestling.

"The only ones willing to do that would be Team Rocket," Brock spoke up.

Team Rocket. Chase needed a moment to recall who that was. Back in Viridian City, he had run into a member of that… crime syndicate. The nameless man had tried to buy Squeakers and then challenged Chase to a Moémon battle when the transaction didn't follow through.

Chase shot that man's Moémon until it was dead and then tried to mug him. Unfortunately, Lance showed up at that point to ruin everything and let the man go.

"We can't assume the identity," Chase added his input. "We can investigate that further soon enough. For now, can we assume some unknown party is sneaking around and mining Moon Stone?"

"It's possible," Brock said with a shrug. He sipped on his soup before placing the bowl down at his feet. "Regardless, _something_ is disrupting the natural habitat of the Moémon."

"Is it possible to call for reinforcements?" Chase asked next. "This could either be a small group of idiots just trying to make a quick buck or an organized unit that will greatly outnumber us. Is a Gym Leader enough to reprimand these figures?"

"We may have to give a call to Officer Jenny," Brock said with a thoughtful tone. He giggled to himself suddenly as his mind drifted elsewhere. He snapped out of it quickly (not due to Chase reaching for the tactical knife) and coughed into his hand. "But not without evidence. If it's a small group, I can handle it. But if it's Team Rocket, we need to find out first."

"Then we poke in, look around, and alert the authorities," Chase confirmed. "Will you be able to lead me to those lights? I'll be able to track down their most recent path from there."

"Are you sure?" Brock's expression turned serious. "I asked Professor Oak for help because of the Moémon's behavior. This is now a criminal investigation. It might be dangerous to come along."

Stewart looked unsure of himself. He was shaking where he sat and giving Chase a nervous glance. Technically, the older man was the one in charge of the expedition and Chase was just some hired help. Yet he was looking at Chase to make the decision for them.

"It'd be a pain in the ass if you're unable to accept any challenges if this will distract you," Chase spoke sharply. "I'll help just to clear up your schedule."

Chase wasn't sure if Brock blinked or not. His eyes were so squinted shut it was hard to tell where the younger man was staring at. His brows had risen up with startled surprise. He said nothing at first.

"I see you're not just any Trainer," he said with a firm nod and an intrigued grin. "Your age isn't just a number; you're experienced. I should have seen this from the Moémon you carry. To not only capture Viridian Forest's queens but to quickly tame them proficiently enough to not need their Moéballs? And to teach a Magikarp how to breathe on land? It would seem I'm the one who will be in your care."

He then placed his hands onto his knees and bowed at the waist.

Chase still knew jack shit about being a Trainer. The "queens" followed him for their own selfish reasons (and more so out of spite of another so neither one could claim him privately). Squeakers was just too damn stupid to realize she needed water to breathe.

As for the experienced aura around Chase? Well, that had nothing to do with being a Trainer. He knew how to track people down just as much as covering his own tracks. He knew how to hunt. He knew how to organize and execute black op missions in various territories.

But, hey, if Brock thought he was an experienced _Trainer_ , then whatever.

"Before we set off," Chase went along with the charade as he carried on with his original purpose. "I have a request. Stewart told me you always carry badges with you."

"Yes, that's right."

"Can I see what it looks like?"

Brock didn't see it as an odd request. His face shifted into a friendly one as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. From one of the slits, he produced a dull-gray hexagon button. It wasn't anything special in Chase's eyes and could be easily replicated. But there was probably some sort of chip or secret hidden away that prevented counterfeiting.

"Thank you. You always keep one in your wallet?"

Brock nodded as he tucked everything away, "I'm always on duty as a Gym Leader. If anyone wishes to challenge me, I will accept and must be prepared should they beat me. I look forward to our battle."

"After this business is dealt with," Chase said quickly. "We better hurry. Whoever's down there might relocate or the tracks might be contaminated by the upset Moémon. I'd like to set off as soon as possible. Are you fine with that, Stewart?"

"A-Ah," the man jumped where he sat and caught his glasses before they could fall off. "Me? W-Well… I am here on behalf of Professor Oak. I'm not exactly qualified to deal with a smuggling cartel like this. I don't have Moémon of my own to protect me."

"Isn't that why you hired me?" Chase countered.

"Yes. I suppose," Stewart sagged a little in defeat. A quick second later and fire began to burn in his eyes. "No, you're right. I must step in and reset the natural order. It's terrible someone is forcing Moémon out of their homes and ruining the ecosystem in the process. I will be with you the whole way!"

Nurse Joy and her Chansey clapped at his determination. The bold pose of his clenched fist close to his heart faltered as Stewart blushed and shriveled himself by their applause.

"And we'll be here to heal your Moémon once you return," Nurse Joy said with a beaming smile… directly at Chase. It made him shiver.

Soy Sauce leaned away from her and onto Wasabi's shoulder. And Wasabi leaned back as well and pressed herself against Chase. Such was the power of Nurse Joy's insistence. Squeakers, however, was too busy trying to scrape off the last dregs of her fish-flavored crumbs at the bottom of the bag. She was unaware of the three people twice her size about to topple on top of her.

"Don't worry, Nurse Joy," Brock was out of his seat and kneeling before her with what was the _worst_ Prince Charming smile Chase didn't think was humanly possible. "I will be sure to make my way back for your lovely services. The idea of seeing you gives me strength for this dangerous mission!"

"O-Oh…" Nurse Joy had a petrified smile while her Chansey gave Brock the stink-eye. "Thank you?"

"Joy," Chase turned to the woman before Brock made a bigger fool of himself. "Do you happen to have a kitchen in the MoéCenter? Maybe a knife sharpener I could use?"

"Of course!" she beamed at him. "Let me show you the way."

She stood suddenly— catching him by surprise as he stood quickly to meet her— and grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat when she hurried over to him. She pulled him away fast and strong enough to nearly knock him off balance. They headed back to the MoéCenter as if the Devil were on her heels. Or Brock.

0-0-0

"Don't mind him," Chase said once they were inside the MoéCenter. The kitchenette was more of an employee lounge with a single stove, a fridge, and a few cupboards. There was a table at the center that could fit four at most. There wasn't a microwave. Savages. "He's just a pervert. Personally, you should just tell him to fuck off. But that's just me."

She led him the whole way without letting go of his sleeve. At the sound of his vulgar language, she let go. Yet, she didn't look too appalled by him.

"Mr. Brock isn't the first… persistent man I've come across," she said with her usual smile. "There are many Trainers who have tried to flirt with me. Most of them are young boys. Now, what did I do with that sharpener…?"

He watched for a moment as she went through one of the few drawers by the counter. The supplies were scarce. He spotted mismatched sets of silverware, a few cooking utensils, and disposable straws. Nothing was organized. Everything was just tossed randomly in each drawer. It took her a moment to find the chunk of grated metal used to sharpen blades.

"Here we are," she sang as she pulled out the rod and approached him. She extended it out to him handle first. But when he reached for it, she pulled it away suddenly.

She stared at him with a flat gaze. Her eyes were nearly lifeless as she searched through him. Gone was all pretense of her friendly persona.

"You're not a Trainer, are you?" she asked.

His expression never shifted. He was only surprised by how long it took for her to drop her mask. He knew she was fake from the moment he saw her smile.

"I am," he answered her question without hesitation. And honestly. That was important. "Those Moémon outside aren't mine. They're more like strays that are following me. My skills are better suited for other tasks."

She kept searching through him as she extended the sharpener once more. He took it, moved towards the sink, and pulled out his tactical knife. He felt her gaze at his back as he immediately went to work fixing his weapon.

"Is there any reason for asking me?" he questioned while working. He raised the knife up to the light, more out of show than anything. It wasn't the standard camping knife. It was a multi-purpose tactical knife that could carve wood as much as it could skin a wild animal. And it wasn't even the most dangerous of the arsenal he used to have. He showed it just for her.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was only curious?" she said with a dispassionate voice.

He actually considered it, "Maybe. It seems rather dull here. What's the other reason you have?"

He looked over his shoulder as he worked. The only sound being heard was the grinding of metal. Slow, meticulous, and foreboding. She said nothing in reply. She had no intention of answering him.

"Do you plan on blackmailing me?" he put the blade down and faced her. Though the knife was at his back, he could easily reach for it. If needed, he could kill her without it. "I'm not sure how much you can gain from knowing I'm not a traditional Trainer."

"There is nothing I can gain by giving this information away," she said clinically, as if diagnosing whatever disease infected him. "You remind me of a boy that passed through here years ago. I think his name was Red."

"…And?" Chase gestured for her to continue.

"He looked like he didn't belong here," she stated while giving him a knowing look. "He looked so lost with his Moémon following him outside of their Moéball. He had the same look as you did when we mentioned Moon Stones. You have no idea what those are, do you?"

He had thought he gave nothing away while they were discussing the situation. His eyes narrowed. Did she also pick up the fact he knew nothing about the Moémon they named? Did it matter anyways now that he was exposed?

"What do you want?" he asked while crossing his arms.

"Only to say you don't belong here," she said as she eyed him over once more. "And I think you understand what I mean by that. If there's a way to go back, you should seek it as quickly as possible."

"That's why I'm here cleaning up someone else's mess," he frowned. "I gotta finish this stupid pilgrimage and challenge Lance for his crown. Believe me, I've tried everything in my book already. Unless you have a piece of advice?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you in that affair," she said with a slight sigh. It belonged to someone who saw a mess she was incapable of fixing herself. A sigh of impatience of frustration while all she could do was wait until someone else could do it for her. "The best I can offer is the use of my facilities. If your Moémon are injured, the machine can fully restore them."

"…What are you?" he asked with a narrowed gaze.

Her smile returned, "I'm Nurse Joy."

He stared at her. She continued to smile just as she had before. Neither one of them moved, waiting for the other to decide where to go with this.

"Thanks for letting me use your sharpener," he said as he turned to his side to use the instrument again. He made sure to not have his back exposed to her.

"You can keep it," she said with her beaming smile. She started to head out of the staff kitchen. "It rarely gets any use."

As soon as she exited the room did he know something was wrong. He stopped grinding the blade against the rod. The entire facility had gone unnaturally quiet. He pocketed the sharpener while sheathing his knife and hurried outside. The lights of the MoéCenter were out.

"Joy?" he called out. There was no answer. All the doors were shut and looked untouched. He eventually made his way to the front desk. The lights were still out and there were now plastic coverings over the machinery.

"Yo, Champ," Stewart called out as he approached the building. He stopped at the glass doors and struggled to push one open. When he squeezed through, the doors shut automatically. "Did you find what you were looking for? Gym Leader Brock is ready to set out."

"Yeah…" Chase said slowly as he kept looking around. "Do you know where Joy went?"

"Joy?" Stewart blinked. "Ah, you're referring to the Nurse Joy that was stationed here."

Chase's brows furrowed.

"If memory serves me right…" Stewart adjusted his glasses as he looked up at a distant memory. "I believe I read an article in the newspaper a few years back. She went missing sometime after the highway was built. Nobody knows how long she was gone exactly. Trainers no longer traveled through Mt. Moon so there wasn't a need to visit this MoéCenter. Nobody knows what ever happened to her. It's a shame, really."

"Joy?" Chase blinked at him. He stuck his thumb over his shoulder, "We're talking about the same Nurse Joy we were just talking to… right?"

"Hmm?" confusion swept through Stewart. "I'm afraid you've lost me. Are you referring to the Nurse Joy stationed back in Pewter City? I don't believe the League transferred her elsewhere. I'll ask Brock if you wish."

Something cold traveled through Chase's spine.

"No," he said quickly. "Forget it. Let's… just get the hell out of here. Are you ready?"

He didn't wait for Stewart's answer as he approached the doors. They didn't automatically open like they did the few times he used them. He noticed the dust and dirt that hadn't been there before; signs of neglect. He had to manually retch one open and shove Stewart through before slipping by himself.

He turned at the last second when something caught the corner of his eye.

Nurse Joy stood behind her desk. The lights were on again. She smiled brightly at him and gave a wave. The interior of the MoéCenter was as pristine as all the others he had visited before.

In the next blink, she was gone. The room was dark and tarnished by age and neglect.

0-0-0

They couldn't use Stewart's truck. Some of the tunnels were wide enough to allow the researcher to pass through fine, but it was still hazardous. The interior of Mt. Moon was uncannily hollowed. Some paths led him through tunnels while others were more like walkways with an endless abyss over a cliff's edge. One wrong turn and the truck would have led them to their deaths. It was safer to go on foot.

Being an Acolyte came with a few perks. Colonel had once told him the power of an Acolyte came from the eyes. It didn't explain how and why the organ was responsible for letting Chase flung fireballs out of his hands or harden his skin to withstand bullets. But it explained another feature, and one the Acolytes prided themselves with more than their elemental powers.

An Acolyte's sight was undeniably more powerful than a mundane human's. All of them had perfect 20/20 vision, even those with barely a drop of Acolyte blood. The purer the Acolyte, the superior the eyesight became.

Apply a little Aura and their eyesight became truly superhuman.

Chase's eyes gave a dim glow of red and blue as he scanned his surroundings within Mt. Moon. He didn't need Brock's shitty electric lantern to see where they were going. Nor did he need it to see into the dark abyss. He spotted a few Moémon who were watching them cautiously. There was nothing else to report as they walked on. He had hoped to see some form of activity soon.

The Moémon down below spooked the ones following him. Wasabi kept a hand at all times on her lance while Soy Sauce walked with her hand holding onto the belt of his Researcher coat.

Squeakers had enough of their staring. She walked over to the edge, puffed out her chest, and slammed a hand down on it. The squeak she unleashed was as loud as thunder in the null cavern.

The Moémon below scattered. Some burrowed underground while others took off like a coven of buzzing bats.

Squeakers returned to her post at Chase's side. She held his hand while maintaining her ready-to-kill face the rest of the way through.

"Here," Brock said after an hour of traversing. He lifted his lantern to one wall. Bolted across were a series of plastic bulbs wrapped with iron wiring to prevent rocks from breaking them. There were turned off at the moment.

"Right," Chase said as his eyes traced the wiring. Based on how the things were set up, he was able to determine from what direction the suspects had come from. And where they were going. He pointed down one path, "Our best bet is that way."

He put up a hand before Brock could move or say anything. He looked at the ground and spotted several footprints. Most of them came from a similar brand of boots (probably bought in bulk) and made sure to check if they matched the ones Brock or Stewart were wearing. He counted in his head.

"There are at least six different types of footprints," he said. His eyes narrowed as he knelt down to get a closer look. Brock leaned over to give him better light without moving himself to contaminate the scene. "None of them are equipped for this type of work. They're amateurs at best."

What made him frown were the prints left behind. He only had a short moment to get a good look of the original set.

Most of the prints came from heeled boots with little to no traction. They all had a smooth surface at the soles. And the tips were pointed. They belonged to boots better suited for fashion rather than manual labor.

Boots not unlike the kind Nameless Team Rocket Whoever was wearing at that time.

"This one concerns me, though…" he said as he pointed at the one set that didn't match. Or belong as a whole. "This pattern right here belongs on something like sneakers. The size is too big to be a kid's. There are no signs that suggest he's here unwillingly."

Either that or the guy was beaten and broken long before entering the caverns. He didn't want to say that out loud but filed the possibility down for his private assumption. The footprint could belong to the son of a miner or something like that. Someone who knew the layout of the area and was leading Team Rocket to the hotspots.

"You're able to determine that much just from staring at dirt?" Stewart asked with amazement. Unlike Brock, he stepped forward and mixed his steps with the others. If Chase hadn't gathered what he needed, he would have slugged the man.

And if it were anyone else, he'd have tossed their ass over the cliff.

"It's not so different from picking up tracks from Moémon," Brock said with a thoughtful tone. He stood up straight and rubbed the bottom of his jaw. "I never thought to use the same tactic on people, though. Where'd you learn it from?"

Cabo. Someone had kidnapped Alice and planned on selling her to the Tactical Hunters. Chase and two other Researchers had limited time and clues to go off of. They worked together, argued back and forth, and brought their intelligence together to piece together a story. In a couple of days they were able to track down Alice in the midst of the transaction. A battle erupted. The media said it was a terrorist attack from his part that killed thirty-two civilians. They wouldn't be wrong.

Well, that's where he learned this basic trick. The rest he picked up through trial and error.

"On the road," was his answer as he stood straight. "It's hard to tell how fresh these prints are exactly. But I'm going to assume they're at least a day old. There are no signs they've come back yet, which would suggest they're still working deeper within. Or there's another access point somewhere else. For now, we follow the tracks."

"Not the lights?" Stewart asked.

"They might be carrying more mobile lighting equipment with them," Chase answered plainly as he gestured them to follow. "Things like lanterns or headgear. The tracks will tell us where exactly they're going. The lights here might be landmarks so they don't get lost or to scare off Moémon that dwell in the dark."

He led them deeper within, holding up a hand every now and then when the road split. It took him a short minute to scan the area before heading off again. The process repeated itself a few times.

He wasn't just tracking them. He was trying to paint a picture. He checked the surroundings for any signs of a scuffle or accidents. It was hard to determine anything despite being able to see in the dark. The cavern was nothing but uneven terrain. A simple chip in the wall could have been caused by anything. A crack on the floor could have been because of an earthquake. He had nearly nothing to go off of.

In short, he couldn't tell what kind of weapons they had, if any.

"The numbers have increased," he stated at their next stop. His brows furrowed as he crouched and looked around. "Some of them went down that path while the rest waited. Shortly after, they regrouped and brought a large score with them. Children, by the looks of things."

"No," Brock said in a grim and firm voice. He crouched beside Chase and brought the lantern down. "These are Moémon prints. I recognize Geodude… Cliffairy… and Jigglypuff. So that's where they all went…"

Chase examined the smaller footprints. He couldn't fucking tell the difference between them. They all looked like shoes belonging to school children. The sort of shoes the school itself gave that had no traction on them at all. Then again, Brock was a professional in this field.

There wasn't a need to bring the whole group down the right path, but there was only one light so the extra wheels tagged along. He and Brock were the ones who went to examine where the small army of Moémon came from. They found a dead-end shortly after.

Lined up and stacked on top of each other were cages tall enough to reach Chase's chest. Based on that, they were wide enough to fit four of him. Given the number of footprints he saw and the amount of cages they found, there were probably six or even ten shoved together in each one. They were all empty.

"This is horrible…" Stewart breathed out.

Wasabi let out a grunt of agreement. Soy Sauce glanced at Chase, hoping he would do something about this.

"Let's go back," he commanded. "We need to see where they're taking them and why. It can't be far or else they'd risk the chance of one of them slipping away."

Brock gave him an odd look, wondering why he would know something like this. Chase ignored him and turned sharply to head back the way they came. The Gym Leader followed closely behind, believing he was necessary because of his light. The rest of the crew followed.

He had been right. Nearly ten minutes of walking and…

"Turn off the light. Stay close together."

Brock complied without question. The girls huddled close to him. In the darkness, he could hear Stewart shaking in his boots.

"What is it?" Brock asked after a moment. There was something in his other hand. Chase glanced over his shoulder and saw a Moéball in the young man's hand. He had anticipated a fight to break out.

"They're up ahead," Chase said as he pointed up ahead. No one would have been able to see the gesture. "Let your eyes adjust. You'll be able to see the light soon."

He waited for what must have been an annoying minute and a half. It was another reason why he wanted to go home. He wouldn't have this sort of problem if the ones running an operation like this were Acolytes.

"Move up and keep quiet," he said next. "Not a word until we know the situation."

When he felt their eyes had adjusted enough, he started to move. His Moémon were the first to follow, probably due to their above-human senses. He picked up Squeakers by the back of her dress and let her dangle in his grip. He made sure to sway his arm with the time of his steps so she wouldn't bounce around and squeak. A soft breeze brushed by the back of his neck; he saw Soy Sauce hovering behind him.

He also saw Wasabi glaring at her partner with jealousy.

The light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter as they approached. It was coming from a more powerful lamppost compared to the ones stapled to the walls they passed. There was also the light hum of a generator further up. By the sound of it, the actual generator was further down and deeper in the cavern.

There was also a pair of men talking among themselves, probably positioned on the chance to catch any escaping Moémon instead of guarding the entrance of their operation. Their posture told him they were lax, bored. They've been here for a couple of hours and they were tired. Their guard was down and their minds numb.

"Wasabi," he commanded in a low and quiet voice. He lowered Squeakers to the ground without making a sound out of her as he put a hand on the hilt of the lance the Beedrill gave him. "On my mark, take out the one on the left. Disarm him only. We need him for questioning."

Wasabi's answer was to draw her own lance. She readied herself in a lunging pose at his side.

With this distance, he wouldn't be able to reach them fast enough to go unnoticed. But he'd be catching them by surprise. He'd take out the one on the right before either of them could react. And even if Wasabi couldn't move as fast as him with her weak wings, she was still stronger than a normal human. She'd be at his shadow and knock the living fuck out of the other guy.

"…What?" Brock questioned… a little louder than he should have.

"Who's there?!" one of the men snapped his head towards them. His associate was a little slower on the uptake but had a hand on his coiled whip before he knew what was going on.

With the light and their numbers, their group was exposed. If it was him alone Chase could have sunk back into the shadows and waited for them to dissuade the situation as mishearing.

All Chase could do was swear. He watched them closely. If one of them booked it to warn the others, this whole thing would become a mess.

Instead, the two men stepped away from the lamppost and towards them. They wore the black uniform with white boots and gloves. There was even that stupid R in the center of their chest. They belonged to Team Rocket.

And they pulled out a Moéball each as if they were loaded guns.

"Come out now!" one of them barked.

Chase couldn't stop his hand from slapping onto his face. He had been overthinking all of this. He had planned to beat the crap out of two of them with his bare fists, possibly kill one of them. He had expected them to use their whips as a weapon in a world where guns didn't exist.

But there was a reason guns didn't exist and Chase had forgotten about it. Everyone solved their problems through Moémon battles.

"I'm Brock!" the younger man stepped up to face them. He also had a Moéball in his hand. "Gym Leader of Pewter City! You're trespassing on Mt. Moon. Leave now before you make this any worse than it already is."

It was strange seeing this fall before his eyes. Chase remembered seeing similar scenes like this on cop show dramas. There'd be a Mexican stand-off between the cops and the criminals. Guns would go off. And typically through Hollywood bullshit only the criminals would die.

Having Moéballs instead of guns ruined the scene. And instead of bullets, the Moéballs would shoot _little girls._

"Gym Leader Brock," the other Team Rocket goon snarled. "It was only a matter of time before you showed up. But we didn't think it'd be this soon."

"I had a little help," Brock returned with a bold smile. "My friend and I will take you both on."

"Friend is a pretty strong word," Chase threw in there.

"You have it!" the grunt on the right shouted as he and his buddy got into a fighting pose. Legs spread, hands raised to defend and counter… and Moéballs ready to be flung.

While Chase breathed out a huge huff of frustration between puckered lips, his Moémon circled around him and readied themselves. Wasabi had her lance at the ready while Soy Sauce had her hands raised as if about to catch something. Squeakers was shadow boxing, with each fist making squeaking noise as she struck invisible targets.

"Wait a minute…" one of them said. "White long coat. Magikarp outside of water… You're… _him_?!"

"You mean the guy the boss told us about?!" the other gasped with horror. His face went white. The Moéball almost fell out of his hand. "The guy who Champion Lance had to take down? He's real?!"

"You know these guys?" Brock asked over his shoulder.

"No," Chase admitted. He never looked away from the two while fidgeting with the knife in his pocket. "But I think I know their boss. Some guy wearing their uniform wanted to take Squeakers. Challenged me to a Moémon battle and everything. I ended up killing his… what was it called? Arbok."

He waited for Brock's reaction, watching the Gym Leader closely.

"We surrender," the Team Rocket goons said together. They placed their Moéballs back onto their belts and raised their hands over their heads. They looked displeased… but terrified as they watched Chase as if he were a wild animal.

"Well, that's reassuring," Brock said with a bit of relief. He placed his own Moéball away while giving Chase a more respected look. "The level gap between you two must have been too much. You keep surprising me by how great of a Trainer you are."

Chase's brows rose up to hide behind his bangs. He recalled the words he used exactly for Brock. Ah, the way he had worded it made it sound like he thrashed the Arbok with an overpowered Moémon in a fair Moémon battle.

It was a little jarring for Brock, a professional with legal authority, to disregard the death of a Moémon so casually. Either he was mental (highly likely considering he groped Soy Sauce like a judge at a state fair) or Moémon died in battle more often than not.

…Considering everyone solved their problems with gladiatorial violence, it wouldn't be a far stretch to assume.

And if the two grunts ahead of them weren't saying anything, their boss didn't tell them the full story. Or they were too wary of Chase to say anything that will anger him. Which was smart on their part. He'd hate to have to kill Brock to hide his secrets— and Stewart, now that he thought about it.

Still, he wasn't above killing all the humans here and dumping their bodies deeper in the caverns. Hate it, sure, as much as anyone else hates having to take out the trash or wipe their own ass, but he'd do it. He'd take that badge with him and the keys to Stewart's truck first.

"Talk," Chase said as he stepped to the front of the group. He saw the way their bodies tensed. "What are you doing in Mt. Moon?"

He pretended to not hear Wasabi spitting off to the side. She wanted to fight just as badly as Squeakers did.

"We're mining for Gold Nuggets," one of them answered quickly.

Gold Nuggets instead of Moon Stone. Well, assuming it was _actual_ gold and not some stupid name for another drug-rock, he could see the value and risk in an operation like this. Gold was gold no matter where he went.

"How many of you are there?" Brock asked next.

"There are five of us," the other answered, also without hesitation. "Plus one more the boss brought in. It was a request from higher up. He knows where all the gold is."

"Hold on," Chase put up a hand before Brock could ask anything else. He gave the two a hard look. "Why are you telling us any of this?"

The two exchanged a confused look with another. The one on the right answered cautiously, "Because… we lost?"

"But don't think you'll get away with this!" the other barked. "Once we report this to the big boss, you'll get what's coming to you!"

For a moment, Chase was left speechless. His brain felt like it was melting and he couldn't tell if the sudden stench of burnt toast was real or imagined.

He… didn't even initiate a Moémon battle and these two _criminals_ were still following Lance's fucktard rules. Weren't they criminals? Shouldn't they be doing things against the law? Like _not_ complying with law officials?

They weren't even afraid of their lives like Chase had thought. They were just a pair of robots who had Lance's rules programmed into them so hard it was physically impossible to disobey.

"And you're the ones who rounded up what Moémon you could for your nefarious purposes!" Stewart accused with a pointed finger… all the way in the back of the group. Despite his raised voice, it was riddled with fear for the Team Rocket goons. "Shoving them into small crates and enslaving them against their will! What volatile and degrading task are you making them accomplish?!"

Oh, so beating them to the brink of unconsciousness, capturing them into baseball-sized capsules, and forcing them to fight a Trainer's battles was any better? Chase couldn't see the difference between Team Rocket and literally everyone else on this planet.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" one of them shot Stewart with a nasty grin. It made Stewart squeal and hide behind Soy Sauce.

"Fine," Brock said with a firm voice. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you near Mt. Moon again."

"…What?" Chase snapped his head at the Gym Leader. "The hell are you thinking? You're going to just let them walk away while— None of you two move!"

Chase whipped out his knife and pointed at the two who were about to walk around them. They saw it and their eyes widened at the danger it posed. They raised their hands in surrender once more.

"That's a little extreme," Brock commented as he eyed the knife. "They've surrendered. They're no longer a threat. They can't challenge me to a Moémon battle any longer."

Chase squawked, words getting stuck in his throat. He needed a moment to be able to speak again. "What are you, ten?!"

"Fourteen."

"These fucks are in the middle of criminal activity that they have confessed to!" Chase pointed his knife at them once more for emphasis. He ignored the way they leaned away despite being a good ten feet apart. "We can't just let them _walk away_! What's to stop them from doing it again somewhere else?"

"My word as Gym Leader," Brock said in a flat voice.

"Your _word_?!" Chase threw his arms up. The whole situation was such a mess he could hardly think straight. But… this wasn't his world. They worked on a completely different system. He needed to stop being surprised by it. "You know what? Fine. Fine! Let's say they stop. But your jurisdiction only applies within the reaches of Pewter City, correct?"

"That's right…" Brock said with a slow nod, unsure where Chase was going with this.

"Then what's to stop them from pulling the same shit somewhere else?" he countered, twirling the knife between his fingers. "Some place that's not protected by a Gym Leader? Or the Gym Leader just so happens to be away at the time. There's also the fact they're involved with… capturing and enslaving wild Moémon through unlawful obtainment. They need to be arrested and tried for their crimes."

Really, Chase didn't want them to go so they would become a problem later on. He knew once they were out of sight Chase would run into them pulling on another scheme. That, and he didn't want them to talk.

Killing them wasn't an option with Brock here.

"You have a point…" Brock said after a thought to himself. "What do you propose then?"

It's not like he could take them back to the surface, call the police, and wait until they arrived. Another Team Rocket personnel would notice their absence. They might excuse one of them absent for a piss break but not both of them at the same time. They would realize something was wrong and might move out.

"I have some rope," Chase said. He snapped a finger at Stewart, "Stewart, come here. I need the pack for a minute."

Stewart, having little to no use at all in this excavation, had been reduced to being their pack mule. He didn't protest considering Chase had dumped out most of the camp gear in favor for the things he thought would be more useful. Stewart trotted up and rolled the pack off his shoulders. He looked relieved when he handed it over to Chase.

The pack was maybe thirty pounds, tops. Stewart needed to work out more.

"But that's Escape Rope," Brock commented as Chase pulled out the thirty yard bundle of rope from the pack.

"Yeah?" Chase gave him a flat look as he began to unwind it.

"It's… for escaping," Brock said slowly, unsure of how to explain the purpose of the rope to Chase.

"It's _rope_ ," Chase snapped back. "There's more than one way to use it than helping us climb out of here. Alright you two, belts off and move back to back. Try anything and you'll regret it."

The Team Rocket grunts obeyed without question. They unfastened their belts containing a set of Moéballs and their whips and handed them over to Chase. He tossed them over to Brock while tying them up. He bound their arms together before wrapping the rope around their waist and legs. They'd be able to stand and sit if they wanted but if they tried to run they'd only be able to move an inch at a time.

"You realize… this is _Escape Rope_ , right?" one of the grunts asked.

"Unless you're Houdini," Chase said as he finished tightening the knot. He applied a bit of Aura, making them grunt. "You're not getting out of this one. Do me a favor and stay put."

They both looked at him as if he was crazy.

"I've never heard of a Houdini," Stewart commented. "Is that a Moémon from where you come from?"

Chase gave him a look, considered giving him a sarcastic answer, and chose against it. He instead addressed Brock, "We move on and assess the situation. If there's too many of them, one of us goes back and report to the police. The other will keep watch and follow them. We don't engage unless we know we can beat them."

"What about the two you let go?" Brock asked as he crossed his arms.

"What two?" Chase blinked at him.

"The ones you used the Escape Rope on."

"These two?" he stuck a thumb over his shoulder. "I just tied them up and took their Moémon. They're not going—"

He sensed something was wrong. Rather, he picked up the lack of sense. He looked over his shoulder and quickly spun around. The two Team Rocket mooks he had tied up were gone. His head swiveled around, trying to figure out where they could have gone in such a short amount of time. He knew he tied them up good. They shouldn't be able to move anywhere without him noticing. Even if they could, they wouldn't have been able to go far.

He ended up spinning his whole body around in search of some secret passage he couldn't detect. Like a button on the wall that opened a secret chamber or something.

"The fuck?!" he swore while looking over in every direction thrice over.

"You used Escape Rope," Brock said. "What'd you think would happen?"

"You keep saying that as if it's fucking magic!" Chase barked back. "It's just stupid rope! How the fuck did they get out of here? Did none of you see where they went?"

He asked while looking at his Moémon. Each one of them pointed in a different direction.

"They _escaped,_ " Brock said in a tired voice. "Hence why it's called Escape Rope."

"They pulled a fucking Houdini on me," Chase said as he tapped a foot on the spot the two goons once stood. No hidden panel opened up. All that remained were their footprints. There was no evidence they had gone anywhere. Just… poof. Gone.

"Ah, Chase?" Stewart approached cautiously. "Perhaps they don't have Escape Rope from… wherever it is you come from? I don't believe you told me."

"America," he answered while hopping on the spot this time. The ground didn't cave in. There was no hidden panel. "And no. We just call it rope. We use it for climbing, tying, hoisting, and a bunch of other things. You don't just vanish out of thin air with rope."

"That explains much!" Stewart's voice felt enlightened as he took his instructor's tone. "You see, Chase, here the purpose of Escape Rope is to return to the entrance of natural labyrinths should a Trainer wind up lost. That way they can try it again once they're better prepared. Those men you tied up could be on Route 3 to Pewter or Route 4 to Cerulean, depending on where they came from."

Chase said nothing as he stared long and hard at Stewart. He looked over to Brock for confirmation. The Gym Leader showed no sign that Stewart was being an ass about it. The both of them were absolutely serious about this.

Why should he be surprised by this? These people had discovered the technology to convert humanoid beings into energy and seal them away into baseball-sized capsules. Who was to say Escape Rope was really just a needlessly long cord of tech that could teleport a Trainer to a designated spot.

By the Daydream and Ma, what he would do to have tech like that back on his world.

Look at him, swearing by the god and devil of the Acolytes. This world was breaking him.

"It's fine," Brock spoke up. He raised the belts still in his hand, "We have their Moémon. Once I return to the Gym I can use the identification code on them to track them. They won't get too far. They're also less dangerous now that they don't have their Moémon."

Yes. Fine. Everything was fine. Never mind the whole thing he wanted to prevent happened anyways. Two Team Rocket grunts who knew him had gotten away and were going to spread the word. Great. Now he was going to have an even bigger target on his back once this incident was settled. The small group in Viridian City he can excuse. But to get involved with a larger operation like this and foil it? That'll go _great_ against a crime syndicate.

Somehow, he felt Lance was responsible for all of this.

"Whatever," Chase growled. "Let's move up. Keep quiet. They should be nearby."

0-0-0

One long and dark tunnel later and they found themselves on a cliff overlooking the entire operation. The room within Mt. Moon had been hollowed out exponentially, leaving a large open area that could fit a few thousand people comfortably.

Down below, he spotted five different types of Moémon working as miners. Some were using pickaxes to bite into the walls, others were shoveling dirt into carts, and the last of them were pushing those carts and dumping the contents into a great abyss off to the side. The process repeated itself numerous times while being supervised by only two other Team Rocket members.

The Moémon were terrified of them. Whenever there was the smallest sign of a lull in their production, the sound of a whip cracked through the air. They were never struck but the fear of being hit pushed them to work harder.

"I didn't want to believe it," Stewart muttered quietly as they crouched down. The lights were pointed at the working operation; they were invisible for the time being. "Team Rocket is using the Moémon to do their dirty work."

"And not just Moémon from Mt. Moon either," Brock commented in a grim voice. "They're using Nidoran and Nidoran too."

Chase glanced at him through the corner of his eye. He had no idea why the man just repeated the same name twice. Maybe there was a distinction that Chase hadn't picked up. Stewart seemed to understand with the way he nodded in confirmation.

"We need to move quickly if we're to stop them," Chase said. While the sound of mining covered their noise, he didn't want to take any chances and spoke lowly. "The two of you go back topside and see if you can get in contact with the police. We're going to need reinforcements."

"You don't think we can stop them here and now?" Brock asked as he looked around. "There's only two of them. One for each."

"We're missing the two others the guardsmen mentioned," Chase pointed out. "Plus I tracked a total of six people. I'm going to stay here and scout the area further."

"What are you going to do once you find them?" Brock asked.

Kill them. Either claim the Moémon battle got so intense the rocks fell on top of them or just throw them into the abyss and say it was an accident.

"Weight out my options and go from there," he said. It technically wasn't a lie.

Brock nodded back, "Good luck to you, then. We'll be back with Officer Jenny as soon as we can."

Chase watched him move. Brock spoke softly to Stewart, who looked nervous at leaving Chase behind but relieved to be away from the danger. They both began to move away from him.

Brock nearly blew their cover when Chase's hand slapped onto his rear.

"Good luck with Officer Jenny," Chase said while giving the man a thumbs-up with his other hand. A misdirection so Brock wouldn't see the hand that cupped a feel.

Instead of being offended or suspicious, Brock's face lit up with excitement. "You really think I have a chance?"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Chase snapped at him.

"You're right," Brock lost his stupid-ass smile immediately. "Stay safe."

Without another word, the two of them hurried away and left Chase alone in the dark cavern. He and his Moémon were hidden by the altitude and darkness. A person who had their vision adjusted would have been able to spot him and their brightly colored attire. But it was the lights that blinded those down below.

"Right now we wait," he told his Moémon, especially at the impatient Wasabi. "We watch them and study their pattern. If their boss doesn't make an appearance soon, we'll jump at them."

Wasabi snapped her finger. She listened to him but wasn't all too pleased by it. She continued to hold onto the hilt of her lance.

Chase, meanwhile pulled his own from his belt and let it rest flat on the floor. He made himself a little more comfortable as he peered down onto the mining operation. He watched the Moémon work like ants while the Team Rocket handlers paced back and forth with boredom.

One Moémon scurried up to him and extended a rock to the Team Rocket member. Chase's eyes narrowed as he applied more Aura into his eyes. It wasn't a rock. He saw gold shimmering underneath the layer of dirt.

The criminal looked over to his partner, who was busy yelling at a pair of purple and teal children, and pocketed the rock for himself. He shooed the Moémon back to work before his partner could see.

As Chase kept an eye on the criminals, Soy Sauce leaned against his shoulder. He thought nothing of it at first as he kept watch. It wasn't until she wrapped her arms around one of his and press herself against him did he feel her shaking. That… and he could feel her nips poking him through her dress.

"You're cold," he more stated than asked. It was obvious in more ways than her reaction. The caverns were dark and damp. There was no sunlight. Given the altitude of the mountains themselves, it was a few temperatures short of freezing.

None of the Moémon were dressed for the cold. They were all wearing dresses normally seen for summer and spring time. He was comfortable because of his Researcher coat, which breathed well enough to give him a high tolerance to any weather condition. Apply some Aura through it and he would hardly notice a thing.

He glanced at the other Moémon. Wasabi was tense and trying to resist shaking. She kept a stoic face, though shot glances at Soy Sauce jealously. Squeakers was pressed against his back, but he had excused it since she always clung to him at all times.

"Here," he sighed and pulled his arm free. Squeakers slipped off of him and Soy Sauce pushed herself away, crossing her arms and rubbing her arms in the process.

In what might be the dumbest thing he could ever do— twice in the same day at that— he shrugged off his Researcher coat and handed it over to Soy Sauce.

He stopped short at the sound of buzzing coming from Wasabi. When he looked at her, she was giving him a look of betrayal. Both her wings were twitching.

"Don't give me that look," he told her in a low voice. "I let you wear it earlier. If you want it, you can share with her."

She gawked at him, glared at Soy Sauce, and then huffed as she crossed her arms and turned her head away from them both. However, she gave him a dirty look through the corner of her eye.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with her. He ignored her and gave Soy Sauce his coat. She thanked him with a smile as she fumbled around trying to find the opening. He didn't think it was so cold as to have numbed her fingers, but she dropped his coat a few times. She shuddered and rubbed her hands together.

He rolled his eyes, grabbed his coat off the floor (gaining a guilty look from her as if she had done something wrong… which wasn't untrue), and flung it over her head. The coat floated over until they landed on her wings. Hers weren't as stiff as Wasabi's— they bent slightly so the coat could fall onto her shoulders. She grabbed the hem of it and tugged it closed. A look of relief swam through her as she nuzzled into the collar with only her eyes peering over. She gazed at him with a look that made him feel uncomfortably warm.

Wasabi huffed some more and purposely took a few steps away from him.

Squeakers meanwhile dove into Soy Sauce's chest, who opened her arms at the last second to catch her. The sound of impact wasn't necessarily loud, but it was louder than he wanted it to be.

He pulled Soy Sauce by the collar of his coat while reaching for Wasabi's skirt in a panic. He pulled them both away from the cliff and rolled himself back. Wasabi glared at him with absolute death as he had almost pulled down completely. Only a quick hand to her front held the skirt up enough so that only the panties shaping her round rear was exposed.

He moved his hand away and put a finger to his lips. It didn't stop her from promising silent retribution but it prevented her from acting up and making noise. He repeated the gesture over to Soy Sauce and Squeakers. He then told them to stay still as he flipped over onto his stomach and crawled over to the edge.

His eyes peered down. The activity down below hadn't changed. No one spotted them.

"Fucking hell Squeakers," he sighed with relief. "You're going to be the death of me, I swear."

"Which one is Squeakers?" a voice whispered just as quietly as he had.

Instinct took over him as he kicked his feet around to flip around. As he spun, he reached for a weapon that wasn't there and drew upon powers that wouldn't answer. All he had on him were his fists; he adapted and by the time he was back on his feet was he ready to throw down hard.

"Waaaaaaaaah!" the figure that had snuck up on him flailed his arms around as he ran backwards, just barely missing Chase's left hook. He stopped when he thought he was far away enough. "Calm down there, Hitmontop! I'm not gonna hurt you!"

His Moémon were by him, ready to fight. Wasabi had her lance out and extended while Soy Sauce had her body turned and palm extended toward the figure. Squeakers dangled at the waist by an arm wrapped around her by Soy Sauce.

The one who had gotten too impossibly close without detection was around Chase's age. He was a scrawny figure with a clean white button-up, denim jeans, sneakers, and a thick pair of glasses that enlarged his eyes. His skin was clammy, face riddled with some acne, and his hair was greasy. His smile was crooked and uncanny as if he didn't know how to smile in the first place.

At his belt were three Moéballs.

"How did you sneak up on me?" Chase demanded. Dammit all. He had given Soy Sauce his coat without thinking. He didn't even bother to remove the knife in the front pocket. Whatever; he could deal with this man with his fists alone. He doubted he would need to use any Aura.

"Wait, hold on," the young man replied as he reached into his front pocket. Though he didn't reach for a Moéball, that didn't mean he wouldn't reach for a hidden weapon. Chase readied himself.

Instead of a weapon, he pulled out a rock. No, there were some strange ridges on top. A shell of some sort. It was a fossil.

The man put it up to his ear and _listened_ to it.

His eyes snapped to Chase as if the thing had answered, "The Helix Fossil says I shouldn't answer you. You don't belong here. You're from a completely different story. Hmm? _Stories_ , apparently. But which version of you are you?"

Chase's eyes narrowed. What the hell was the guy rambling on about? The only reason why he didn't break in the man's teeth was because of what he said first.

 _You don't belong here_.

"Please tell me you're just a hallucination," Chase muttered, hoping the guy was another… whatever the hell Route 3's Nurse Joy was. It would explain how he had been able to sneak up on him and his Moémon.

Maybe Moon Stones released some sort of hallucinogenic dust once it was mined? Maybe Mt. Moon was just full of this stuff floating in the air.

"Shhh," the man whispered as he leaned his head into the fossil in his hand. "Before Dragoon canon, hmm? Before… Act IV? I don't know what those are. It must mean you're still young and learning. You're not as powerful as you will be. But… Hmm? What's this?"

He listened for a moment. His eyes snapped again.

"None of these Moémon are yours! I can capture my… _Cynthia_!"

Wasabi took a huge step back once his eyes snapped towards her. She raised her spear a little higher. The tip wavered as the fear of being captured consumed her.

"Alright, I've had enough of you," Chase muttered. He pushed by Wasabi and came at the man.

The man in glasses moved faster than he anticipated. His hand slapped onto a Moéball and the capsule opened at his belt. Light shimmered as a stream of white energy leaked out and spilt onto the ground between them. The figure of a little girl started to form.

They were all bombarded with the stench of rotten eggs and shit. The smell of sewage waste that hadn't been filtered and disposed of for who-knows how long.

The light faded when the figure solidified. His eyes adjusted instantly with some Aura. Standing between them was a little girl around the age of ten in a black dress. Her eyes were blue and her expression was dull, as if bored with having to be outside of her Moéball.

Her hair was purple. And it wasn't hair. Purple _gunk_ oozed out from the back of her head and poured out in the shape of hair. It congealed and dripped onto the floor in gelatinous chunks.

It was the smell of her that made him hesitate. His face scrunched up and he couldn't help but throw an arm up to cover his nose. The smell made his eyes water.

"Grimer," the young man, who was completely unfazed by her stench, commanded his Moémon. "Use POISON GAS."

The Moémon, Grimer, breathed out as if her Trainer's orders were a chore. But she obeyed. She opened up her mouth and exhaled a burst of purple gas towards him.

The Shadow would prevent him from being affected, but that didn't mean his own Moémon wouldn't.

"Move!" he gasped at them, only to cough as both stench and nauseous gas entered his lungs. It was thick and he began to choke on it. Still, he forced himself to move. He kicked off the ground and moved in the opposite direction his Moémon dove for. He meant to take all the attention away from them.

Another burst of light. Another Moémon appeared.

This one was also a little girl with a blue and black dress. Her skin was so pale she couldn't have seen the light of day her entire life. And her blue hair was cut in a bob that completely covered her eyes. At her back were a pair of leathery wings that flapped quickly to keep her hovering off the ground.

"Zubat, use SCREECH," the young man commanded.

The second Moémon opened up her fanged mouth and let loose a wail that Chase could visibly see pulse the air. It came at him faster than he could react. High pitch noise struck him and rattled his brain even when he put up his hands to cover his ears. He felt the noise more than heard it. He felt it invade him, numbing all his senses.

A third burst of light. A third Moémon.

More commands were given to the girl in a white dress, standing atop a large ball. Chase couldn't hear them. He could barely pay attention as he struggled to keep his balance. All he knew was this man was attacking his Moémon.

And the girls weren't defending themselves. Wasabi was at the front with her weapon. But she was looking between him and the third Moémon. As if she expected him to do something about it.

Seeing that lance in her hands told him he _did_ have a weapon.

He moved even when his world wouldn't stop shaking. He ran back to his original spot, leaned over without losing speed to pick up his lance, and charged straight at the man.

"Grimer, HARDEN!"

The Grimer leapt up to shield the man. Chase grit his teeth and reinforced his body with Aura as he drove the spear forward. He saw the Grimer shimmer as if a layer of something else coated her briefly. He felt resistance… but the spear plowed through her.

It didn't reach the man behind her. The spear only made it halfway.

And the Grimer was looking at him with an annoyed expression.

"Voltorb, use THUNDERSHOCK! Zubat, use BITE!"

Electricity surged out of the third Moémon, Voltorb, and was flung at his Moémon. They didn't even try to defend themselves. They just looked at Chase before taking the brunt of the attack. Wasabi took the most of it while Soy Sauce tried to use her body as a shield for Squeakers. The fish Moémon let loose a squeak that he knew was a fit of uncontrollable screams.

On his end, the Zubat dove straight for him. He tried to swipe it out of the sky with his arm. Even with Aura hardening his skin and increasing his strength, all it did was shake her momentarily. The Zubat had latched onto his arm and used it as a point to leap forward. She went for his head.

He pulled his body away from her at the last second. She missed, but her teeth sank into his shoulder.

He let loose a howl of pain as her fangs pierced through his Aura-enhanced skin. He punched her to get her off. First at her head, then at her body, and then anywhere without thought. The more he hit, the deeper her fangs sank.

"Grimer, use SLUDGE!"

The Zubat leapt off of him and tore off a chunk of meat in the process. The pain of it shocked him for the second it was needed for the Grimer to attack.

The goop that made up her hair came alive and shot off like a geyser for him. It slapped him square in the chest hard enough to knock him off his feet.

…And over the edge of the cliff.

"So long, Sir Rolan!" he heard the man as he fell. "O' Great Helix Fossil says to update Heart of Glass sometime!"

He didn't bother to think about what that meant as he continued to fall, slamming onto the uneven slope of the cliff before rolling off further. His body didn't even reach the floor of the mining operation. It continued to fall all the way down to the abyss where they threw away the excess.

He shouldn't have given up his coat.

* * *

 **Pat reon: Arrixam**


End file.
